Love of Money
by Josh Shrimp
Summary: On the surface, Inkopolis is a place of order, rules, amd fair play. But in the city's underbelly lies another world. The world of the cons. Follow Chalk as he schemes and cheats his way to fortune.
1. Back Alley Boy

"Is this right?"

An inkling with bright yellow tentacles peeks down an alley. The sun was shining bright on the rest of the world, but here it was dark and dank. The alley was lined with trash bins that likely never got picked up and covered with puddles that likely never dried up.

"I bet it's not as scary as it looks."

She crept in and shivered as the temperature seemed to immediately drop. Some part of her told her that this was a bad idea, but she tried not to be such a pessimist. It was always her policy to go through with something once she's decided to do it. She took out her hand-written instructions and kept her face down and focused on them.

"204. 204. Where are you?"

She muttered to herself often, especially if she was alone. It made discomfort more tolerable. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if all of this was worth the trouble. This place seemed dangerous and not just because of the filth. She wasn't even really into Turf War. But all the other kids were, and she had to keep up…somehow.

Eventually she spots a door and considers knocking on it to ask for directions, but after hearing some violent rumblings going on inside, she decides not to.

"How much farther do I have to walk?

A loud banging from around the corner startles her, and she takes a look. She takes care not to be seen.

A suspicious-looking man with his head covered in a hood and mask is pacing around in front of a door. She looks up and sees the door is labeled "204".

"That must be the place."

The girl wanted to approach the door, but the man started banging on the door even louder, obviously irritated. She backed away and continued to watch from afar. A little window opened up in the door and the man spoke into it. The man shoved money through the hole and the door opened up.

The girl could hardly believe who came out. It was a young boy around her age, but he was dressed a little shady. His white beanie was pulled down to cover most of his eyes. He was carrying what looked like some kind of weapon set, but one that she's never seen before. It looked really strong and modern, even stylish. The man snatched it from the boy and ran away cradling his prize in his arms. The door quickly shut and locked up. It all looked simple enough to the girl, and she decided to give it a try.

She walked up to the door with her head held high, and gave it a light knock. About 2 minutes passed and she figured she ought to try knocking again. She gave the door another light tap, and the little window promptly opened up. A pair of annoyed eyes stared at her and asked, "What do you want?"

The girl, in turn, tried to politely present herself.

"Ah…Um…I'm Crayon."

"…I don't care. Are you here for something?"

"Huh? I mean, yes! I heard I could buy some special gear here."

"What kind?"

"F-For Turf War…Please."

The boy rolled his eyes.

"Hang on."

The window closed, and Crayon stood by herself feeling she must have done something wrong. The door opened up after a short wait and the boy was holding a very expensive-looking pair of shoes. He held out his hand.

"That'll be 5000. Can you afford that?"

"Augh…Yeah! I keep all my money in my pocket, right here."

Crayon fumbled around with her coat for a while, trying to pull out her wallet. Luckily the boy seemed more bored than angry. She finally pulls out her wallet and opens it with a gasp. She had less money in it than she thought. She forgot she bought something the other day.

"I-I'm sorry. This happens all the time, but I know it shouldn't. I didn't bring enough money with me. I didn't mean to waste your time."

"That's fine. Just give me what you got."

"And…you'll give me the shoes?"

"Yeah, now hurry up."

"…I can't do that."

"..."

"I can't take your stuff without paying full price. It wouldn't be fair. Oh gosh, I bet you feel sorry for me. I'm so sorry, I won't do it again!"

Crayon took off running in sheer embarrassment. The boy simply sighed and shut the door.

Crayon found herself sitting at a table in the Square all alone, contemplating whether she should return to buy the shoes once she got enough money or just never show her face again. Which would be less rude? She started watching a match being aired on the giant screen to get her mind off of the issue. Only good players ever made it up there. As she spectated, something caught her eye. One of the players was wielding an exceptionally dazzling weapon. It was the same weapon the boy sold earlier today. That must mean the man holding it was the buyer. She was eager to see what it could do.

The match was still being set up. The players were giving interviews before the start. The man with the unique weapon had a look of utter confidence. But Crayon was having trouble focusing on the broadcast. It sounded like people were whispering about something nearby. She turned around in her seat, searching for the source. She stared directly at Sean, owner of the nearby food truck, and he waved. The sound was coming from behind the Crust Bucket. Crayon dropped to the floor, mystifying Sean. She could see two pairs of feet, and she rolled under the truck to get a closer look. She could hear them better from that distance.

"The odds favor Bravo team. Just barely. You making a last minute bet?"

"Put 100000 on alpha team, then."

"That's a pretty large bet. How old are you anyway?"

"60."

"Right, whatever. You gotta pay up front."

"I know."

It looked to be a conversation with a bookie, and the person placing the bet was…the boy from earlier. How in the world did he get here so quickly? At any rate, his sudden appearance was enough for Crayon to blurt out, "It's you!"

The boy and the bookie dropped their gaze to a strange girl staring up at them from beneath a truck.

The boy rolled his eyes and pulled his beanie down more, "You've got the wrong person."

"Oh, sorry…Wait, I didn't explain where I saw you from yet."

The bookie gave the boy a questioning look, "Friend of yours?"

The boy placed a wad of money in the bookie's hand and walked away, "Literally never seen her before in my life."

Crayon rolled out from under the truck, bowed to the bookie, "Pardon me.", and followed after the boy.

She tapped at his shoulder as he tried to outpace her. He was obviously ignoring her, but Crayon decided to just speak anyway.

"I just wanted to apologize for before. I was wondering if it'd be okay if I bought those shoes at another time. But if that's not okay, I totally understand."

"I really don't care. And I don't know you."

"Are you sure? Maybe you just don't remember my face. You're wearing the same clothes as before and it was only a little while ago."

The boy stopped and took her by the shoulders.

"Look, lots of people dress this way. I don't know you."

"Alright…I understand."

Just as the boy was going to take his leave, there was a loud explosion and a commotion erupted in front of the Lobby.

Crayon grabbed onto the boy, "What was that?! Let's go see."

She tightly gripped the boy's hand and towed him over to the crowd. The boy voiced his objection to no avail.

"What? No. No no no no no. Let go. Let go."

"We gotta see!"

"Go by yourself."

Crayon checked the giant screen to see that an incident occurred in the match. Right after the match started, one of the players' weapons majorly malfunctioned and blew up in his face. He wasn't seriously harmed, but he'll be forced to drop out of the match. It was reported that the player may not have been using regulation equipment, which may have resulted in his ejection from the game anyway.

Crayon commented on the disaster.

"That's horrible. It's good he wasn't hurt, but now his team will have to fight with just three people. But I guess that's good news for you since…Bravo team will probably win…because of the weapon set that you sold…But that means you…"

He looked away with a cringing scowl on his face. Crayon took hold of his hand with both arms and held him even tighter. The boy knew where this was going. He didn't like the idea of hitting a girl, but-

"We've gotta get you out of here! Come on!"

Crayon pushed past the chaotic mess of people lining up behind them, dragging the confused boy along the whole way. She headed down the alley from before.

"We should hide in your base for now."

"Base? That was just a rented room, and it was only for a few hours."

"We can still stand in front of it. It should be safe enough."

"You don't know what you're doing. Just let go."

With most people rushing up to the Lobby, the pair fleeing the scene in a hurry stood out suspiciously. At least they did to an observant officer at the scene.

The boy was fighting against Crayon less as she pulled him through the shadowy backstreet. The boy seemed to notice something.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Never mind. Turn left up here."

"But that doesn't lead to the room."

"Is that where you thought you were going? You've been leading us in wrong direction the whole time."

"I have? Well this place is so big and complicated and dark and-"

"Just turn!"

The boy forced Crayon into a dead end. He yanked his arm out of her grip and started removing his hoodie. Lastly he pulled off his beanie revealing a head of fluffy blue tentacles. He bundled up his clothes and tossed them into a trash bin. He folded his hand into Crayon's and leaned in close. Her back was against a wall and she froze as he held his face just an inch from her own. She thought he might…try something, but he didn't. His eyes were fixed toward the entrance of the dead end alley, completely focused and unblinking. She badly wanted to ask what this was all about, but somehow she knew he needed her to stay silent.

Soon enough a figure poked past the corner, and in the next moment, the boy released his hold on Crayon, and started walking towards the entrance. He was intercepted by a policeman checking in on them.

"Hold it there, son. Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay."

"What are you two doing here?"

"Um. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. Just standing."

"You shouldn't be here. There are better places for kids to "stand"."

"Thanks. I'll remember."

"But what I'm REALLY wondering is why did you kids come down here immediately after the incident in the Square"

"Well…"

He looked at Crayon.

"It was my idea. I'm sorry."

The cop crossed his arms.

"I could see that. You were the one that led your friend down here."

The boy stepped between the two.

"No, wait. It was my fault, really. She gets a little anxious around crowds, and I told her this would be a good place to go while things settled down. It was my mistake."

The cop maneuvered around the boy and addressed Crayon.

"Is that true?"

But the boy butted in again.

"It's true, really."

The cop was getting frustrated.

"I wasn't talking to…Just get out of here already. Consider this a warning."

"Understood. Thank you. Let's go Crayon."

The boy held out his hand and she shyly took it.

The cop didn't like that his hunch was wrong, but he knew better than to take it out on some teens, and allowed them to leave.

Crayon waited until the cop was out of earshot.

"You remembered my name."

"I remember everything."

She looked back to make sure that the policeman wasn't secretly tailing them.

"So what was that all about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You took your clothes off."

"I thought I'd look more trustworthy without them."

"But you also tried to kiss me."

"Just giving him something extra to think about. Made him less likely to jump to his own conclusions."

"That's all so complicated. I don't really get it."

"It was a gamble that's for sure."

"But thanks."

"For what?"

"Well usually… When things like that happen, I'll just take the blame myself. And most people would just let me do it. I wouldn't have minded if you did, but-"

"Let me stop you there. I wasn't taking the blame. I was just pretending to. The more I insisted it was my fault, the more he thought it wasn't. It's reverse psychology. I was actually counting on you to take the blame for something stupid like hanging out in the back alley. It made that fool forget why he ACTUALLY followed us. But we both got away scot-free. I'd say that was the best possible result."

The boy let go of her hand and stretched his arms into the air.

"Well anyway. It's been nice, but I have winnings to collect. Later."

"Wait."

For a moment, Crayon herself wasn't even sure why she stopped him.

"I-I just want to know."

"Hmm?"

"What was all this for? Selling that player that faulty weapon and gambling. It was so wrong, but you had to have a reason, right?"

"Pfft. Reason? Money obviously. I did it for the coins. Trading knockoff gear, gambling, or whatever. It doesn't matter as long as it makes me some cash."

"Then those shoes that you would've sold me…"

"Probably would've melted in the rain."

"But you made that man lose his game."

"He cheated. He deserved to lose."

"I think you're glossing over your part in this…a little. I mean you kinda cheated too."

"So? Are you gonna do something about it?"

"Maybe."

The boy took an aggressive stance.

"Oh yeah?"

"P-Please tell me your name."

"And why would I do that?"

"B-Because…Because I want to help you!"

"Wha…?"


	2. Good Morning Conman

"Chalk! Hey Chalk!"

An embarrassed boy puts a hand over his face as a girl calls out to him. He chides himself, "Why did I tell her my name?"

Crayon gives Chalk a friendly embrace.

"So this is where you've been."

"How did you find me?"

"I've been looking all morning."

"It's 3 hours past noon."

"It took forever. We should just meet in the same place every day.

"No."

"I actually thought I found you a few times today, but they turned out to be someone else. You were right, a lot of people DO dress like you."

"Go bother one of them instead."

"So what are we doing today? Gonna sell more of your exploding weapons? I bet you get a lot of angry customers."

"It's not something I do regularly. I'm not even the real gear dealer that most people know about. I just set up that room and put up a fake door number to dupe some lost league player into blowing a match. I wouldn't try that trick twice in a row. Also don't casually insert yourself into my day."

"Oh alright. I'll just watch then."

"What? No. Just quit following me."

"But can't I help?"

"The only way you could help me is if you gave me all your money right now."

"Oh. I-I don't have a lot, but if you need it-"

"Who said I needed it? Don't you ever stop to consider that someone's just taking advantage of you?"

"…I don't think you'd do that."

"...You know what? Fine. Just give me all your money."

"Um…Here you go."

Chalk rudely snatched it from her hands. It was roughly 2000 coins.

"Tch, child's allowance. Don't expect me to thank you."

"Do you still need help?"

"If you don't have any money, I don't need you. Now go home. You're useless."

Chalk figured this was good lesson for her. Crayon was far too naïve for her own good. It was better she lost some pocket money now than ruin her life later. But with his back turned towards her, he heard some sniffling. It soon built to blubbering, and one very loud and jarring "Waah!"

Chalk's jaw dropped in horror and disbelief.

"What are you doing?! You're way too old to be doing this in public. Aren't you ashamed?"

"Waaah!"

"Ahh! Stop! What do you want?!"

Crayon grabbed onto Chalk's hand and continued to bawl like a lost child. He just wanted to quiet her down any way he could. Chalk bought her a cheap drink which Crayon readily indulged in. It calmed her down quite a bit, but her eyes were still weepy and she frequently let out small whimpers as she sipped at her straw. He was relieved that she was making less of scene, but only briefly. As she slurped the last of her beverage, her sobbing quickly regained its strength. Chalk's only recourse was to continually buy her food and drinks to appease her.

Crayon had finally settled down as she finished off her third basket of fries and wiped away the last of her tears. Chalk rested his head against the table, Crayon still clutching at his hand, as he calculated the price of her "meal".

"3945. A net loss of 1934 coins. I'm such an idiot. Did this girl just con me?"

Crayon spoke her first coherent sentence since her fit began, still slightly congested.

"I'm sorry. I'll pay you back. I promise."

Chalk stood up from his seat and shook his hand out of Crayon's.

"Don't worry about it. Consider it a parting gift."

Crayon stood up to follow after him.

Chalk rubbed his head in exasperation.

"I'm not buying you anymore to eat."

"That's okay. I'm not really hungry anymore. Where are we going?"

Chalk didn't want to waste any more energy on this and gave up trying to stop her. He walked away and she happily chased after him.

Chalk led Crayon through an unfamiliar part of town. She asked several questions and made a lot of small talk. He responded to none of it, but she didn't seem to mind. Chalk eventually found a wall and looked up. Sitting high up on a ledge was a young woman with boy-short, aqua hair. She grinned down at them.

"Yo Chalk."

Chalk held a hand up to greet her.

"Icing, I need something."

"You always do."

Crayon whispered to Chalk, "Who's this? She looks older."

Icing cupped her hands and yelled back, "I'm only 20. Who's the tagalong? And why are you holding hands?"

Chalk scratched his temple with his free hand.

"Let's not get into that."

"This is literally impossible for me to ignore. Is she your sister?"

"…Anyway, I'm looking for a guy named Tag."

Crayon beamed joyfully up at her.

"Hi, I'm Crayon. Chalk is my friend."

"Sup Blondie. You two up to no good?"

Chalk pulled at his beanie.

"You know I am. So about Tag?"

"He's a slippery one. NO ONE knows how to find him."

"But you do, right?"

Icing gave a wink.

"'Course I do. Why do you need to find him?"

"He owes Pens a debt, but Pens gave up on finding him, so he gave me permission to collect it instead."

"Ok. But before I share his habits, let's talk about payment."

"How much?"

"No coins this time. How about you just tell me the real reason you've got the girl with you? I'm almost certain you're after her money."

Crayon answered for herself.

"I already gave it to him."

"Heheh, consider me mystified then."

Chalk stifled a laugh.

"You picked the wrong deal. She really is just a girl I barely know."

"What?! That's lame. I take it back. I want money instead."

"You know it doesn't work that way."

"Lame! Lamo! This was all just a setup to get out of paying me!"

"Ha, I wish I was that smart."

Icing was pouting.

"Fine. But this better not be the last time I see her or I'll know you were lying."

"No promises."

"Tag moves around a lot, but right about now he should be at his place. He lives in the back of a restaurant called "Chubby's"."

"I know the place."

"Just go around back. The door looks like it leads to the kitchen, but it's just an adjacent building. You better hurry or you'll miss him."

"Interesting. Thanks Icing. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, whatever. Next time I'm charging. Don't be a stranger, Blondie."

Crayon waved a farewell, as Chalk considered his transaction in his head.

"Normally I would've had to pay at least 10000 for that info. Guess I'm in the green today after all."

Chalk and Crayon arrived the establishment questionably dubbed a restaurant. Before Chalk got too close, he paused and faced Crayon.

"I'm going in alone. Stay here."

"But why?"

"It could get a little dangerous in there."

"But then I should come with you."

"I'll be fine. Just stay out. Promise me. Or we're not friends anymore. Got it? I mean it."

"…Ok."

"Good. Here's 1000 coins. Buy yourself a snack if you get bored, but don't spend it here. Your best bet is that vending machine over there."

Crayon took the money, looking a little down as she stuffed it into her pocket. Chalk patted her hand and let her go.

"Don't check up on me."

Chalk snuck quietly up to the door, and hid beside it. If Icing was right, and she usually was, this wouldn't take long. He listened carefully for a while. Soon he heard a sound like someone getting off a spring mattress. Some things were being thrown around. Someone was obviously in a hurry. Finally, the locks were being undone. The door was pulled open and Chalk took this chance to kick it in.

"Hey Tag. How are ya?"

"Woah! What?! Who are you?!"

"I work for Pens. He needs his money, Tag."

"I don't have it. I swear."

"You're not serious. Come on, man. Don't say that."

"No really. I'd pay if I had the money."

"Oh no. No no no. We're dead! We're both dead."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Pens, man. You know how he is. If he wants his money, he WANTS his money. He hired me to find you, because he thought you were skipping out on paying. But you really don't have it?!"

"I-I don't."

"He said it'd all be fine if I just got you to pay up. But if I couldn't… he said he'd rip me to pieces. He'll beat me senseless and then toss me through a window on the 15th floor."

"He wouldn't do that. You just work for him."

"No, no. He said if I didn't get the money, he'd use me to warm up to what he was gonna do to you."

"What? M-Me? No way. Just run. We'll both run. He hasn't found me yet."

"No, you're wrong. Pens is the one who told me where to find you. He said that if he had to come down to this dump to pick up his money, he'd REALLY be pissed off. He'll find us wherever we go. He NEVER gives up. I'm dead. I'm so dead."

"T-That can't be right. It's not THAT much money."

"Tag, I'm scared. I really am."

Chalk covered his face and started laughing.

"But I guess, most of all, I kinda pity you. Whatever he does to me is just practice for what he'll do to you. I guess, I'll get going. I gotta tell Pens that you're not paying. Maybe he'll go easy on me if I'm quick about it. Have a nice…life."

"Wait! You're not going anywhere! You can't tell Pens I'm not paying!"

Tag picked up a bat and held it threateningly at Chalk. Chalk scoffed at him.

"Do you really think he won't come unless I get him? He was already looking impatient when he sent me off. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already on his way here to tear this whole block down. He's coming. It's already too late for you."

"Hang on! I might have some money here. Just not all of it. I might just be one or two thousand short."

"…I really recommend you just pay the full amount."

"Alright, alright. Just don't go anywhere yet."

Tag lifted up his dirty mattress and pulled a bag of cash out from a hole beneath it, and handed an amount to Chalk.

"Don't lose any of it. And count it now to make sure it's all there. We're gonna be alright now, right?"

"Not if I sit here talking to you all day!"

"Aww, I'm sorry. Just hurry. Tell Pens, "I'm sorry" too."

Chalk was promptly booted out and the door was shut behind him. It sounded like there were a few more locks than when the door was first opened.

Chalk came out from behind Chubby's to find Crayon huddled up and asleep next to a vending machine. He wanted to lecture her about falling asleep in public, especially in a bad neighborhood, but decided to forget about it. He grabbed her gently by the shoulder and rocked her awake. She shook her mind out of a fuzz and looked up at Chalk. Crayon frantically dug around in her pocket and handed something to Chalk.

"Here's your money back. I didn't lose it."

Chalk took if from her with care.

"Thanks. How you feelin'?"

Crayon yawned.

"Fine. Did you finish your…thing?"

"Yep."

"You didn't get hurt?"

"Nope."

"That's good."

"Yeah, we're done here. Let's head back."

Chalk took her hand and helped her up. Crayon still walked a bit like she was half-asleep.

"Can I tell you about my dream on the way back?"

"…Sure."


	3. Criminal Entrepreneur

A pair of teens make small talk as they stroll through Inkblot Art Academy. A very usual sight in the Academy. No one would expect that neither of them had ever actually attended classes in this establishment.

"Just explain it one more time."

"No."

"I'm sorry, I'll get it this time."

"It doesn't even matter."

"Please."

Crayon looked at Chalk with pleading eyes, and he couldn't refuse her.

"…Just ONCE more."

"I'll REALLY focus this time. So why did he give you all of his money?"

"I used intimidation. Judging by the effort he put into concealing his whereabouts, he was aware that he was involved with some dangerous people. Probably not just Pens either. But he wasn't paying those people either, so in a way, he thought he was safe as long as no one could find him. When I suddenly burst into his room, I shattered that mentality. Following that by telling him that Pens was out to kill the both of us, I cornered him."

"And Pens is your friend?"

"I wouldn't say that. He made me buy him dinner for collecting on that debt."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"For Pens, dinner is a major expense. But it was still worth it."

"So he REALLY did want to kill you?"

"It was just a bluff."

"…What was a bluff again?"

Chalk grabbed at a door and shot her a look of disappointment before opening it.

"It's a lie I told him so that he'd be more inclined to do what I want."

"Then why'd you say you were in danger too?"

"In a situation like this, it's more beneficial to seem like a friend than an enemy. If I offer him a safe way out, while Pens plays the role of villain, he won't be so resistant my suggestions. Get it now?"

Crayon squeezed her skull with both hands clearly struggling with the explanation.

"…Erm…maybe a little."

"I figured. We could just skip the explanation if it's too much for you."

"No way! It's my favorite part."

"Can't say I understand why, but we can save it for later. We're here."

Chalk stopped at the door of some kind of studio. The walls surrounding the door were coated with elaborate paintings in various styles. Crayon blushed like a berry as she viewed them as quite a few were of an obscene nature. Nude inklings spread out from the door frame like vines. It pained her to look, but they were so enrapturing that she couldn't look away.

Chalk raised his leg and slammed his heel into the door instead of knocking.

"Graffiti! Open the door!"

Crayon was so surprised that she briefly tore her attention away from the captivating images. She looked around nervously wondering if anyone heard that.

"Is this another shakedown?

"Shakedown? Relax. He's a business associate. You just can't get his attention unless you're loud."

Chalk kicked at the door again.

"Graffiti!"

Crayon was still concerned he was causing a disturbance but it didn't look like anyone was coming.

"Careful. You might break it."

"Stronger men than me have tried."

Chalk was just about to deliver another kick when a soft muffled voice spoke up.

"Who is it?"

"Chalk."

"…Hold on. I'll open it in just a second. Don't go anywhere."

"Just hurry up."

Chalk and Crayon stood outside the door for several minutes, Chalk growing increasingly impatient.

"What are we here for exactly?"

"Just picking something up. Be prepared for something really stupid when those doors open, by the way."

"Like wh-"

The door flung open. Music played as colorful lights streamed from several directions. Heavy smoke rolled from the door and a man stepped out from it as heart-shaped confetti rained down on him.

"Hello my friend, and welcome. How may I enlighten you today?"

The strange man wore a lab coat covered in a rainbow of stains and had a white mask covering his nose and mouth. His arms were stretched out and high, as if he were presenting himself. He lowered his head and looked at Crayon and Chalk expectantly. Crayon was more confused than impressed, but felt obligated to applaud nonetheless. The man was pleased with this reaction. Beneath the mask, his gleeful smile was clear, even as tears shined in his blue eyes.

Chalk rolled his eyes.

"Just get my stuff so I can leave already."

Graffiti reached out and shook Chalk's hand with both of his.

"Always straight to the business side of things. It's so good to see you."

He glanced over at Crayon with significantly less interest.

"Icing. It's been awhile. I didn't expect you."

Crayon pointed to herself with a quizzical expression.

"Me? I'm not Icing. Did she used to do her hair like mine?"

Graffiti chuckled lightly.

"My apologies. All women look alike to me. Don't take it personally."

Chalk snapped several times next to Graffiti's face to get his attention.

"My stuff. Remember why I'm here?"

"Oh, of course, of course. Come on in. I'll give the both of you a tour."

"We really don't have time for that."

"I insist. Allow me the privilege to be courteous."

He brought the two into his studio, and began showing off his various work areas and projects in progress. Crayon was troubled by the stunning sheer number of nude figures. She could barely keep her eyes uncovered and was practically glowing red. Meanwhile, Chalk was being unexpectedly quiet and compliant. Graffiti stopped to give a very detailed presentation about his inspiration for a particular painting and the importance of the message hidden in its context, moved to tears by his own speech. As he did this, Chalk went about poking into boxes strewn about the room. After some searching, he chanced upon a box labeled "Mr. Edgy".

He checked inside. Satisfied with the contents, he closed it back up and placed it into Crayon's arms.

"Take this. We're going."

"But he's still giving his tour."

Chalk put some money on a desk and picked up a box for himself.

"He won't even notice we're gone. Just go."

Sure enough, Graffiti continued to emotionally expound on worldly concept at great length, even as the pair made their way to the door. Leaving him alone made Crayon feel a bit guilty, but Chalk was already far down the hall and she didn't want to be left behind. And maybe a small part of her found Graffiti a bit overwhelming herself.

Chalk found his way to the center of campus, and threw the box down in the shade of a tree.

"Here seems okay."

Crayon placed her box down next to Chalk's.

"What's in these anyway?"

"Hats."

"They don't explode, do they?"

"…Huh. Not sure. But they're waterproof this time."

Crayon was rattled by the fact that her joke question was being taken so seriously, and she cautiously popped a box open.

"Oh my gosh! They're so cute!"

Crayon quickly snatched one up and placed it on her head.

"Did your friend make these?"

"Graffiti's not my friend. He just supplies me with weapons and gear to merchandise. He's not much of an engineer but I've never needed him to be. And I'm glad you like them."

He removed his usual beanie and replaced it with the green cap.

"You'll make a convincing salesman."

"We're gonna sell these?"

"Sure are."

"That sounds like fun!"

"Good. Keep that enthusiasm."

Chalk made a crude sign out of some cardboard, and they simply waited for an interested passersby to approach them. It wasn't long before one girl came right up to Crayon to inquire about the hats.

"Oh wow. Pink is my favorite."

"I know. They're so adorable."

"How much are they?"

Crayon was about to respond before she realized she didn't know the answer. She looked to Chalk for help. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

"2000 coins."

The girl paid and left with her purchase. Crayon thought that went over very well, but something seemed off. She thought for sure that there'd be more to this scheme than meets the eye, and yet Chalk barely said a word. It didn't worry her though. Spending the day selling possibly volatile hats with a friend sounded nice.

Time passed and two more customers bought hats from Crayon. Both were girls. Things were moving very slowly, but she had managed to collect 6000 coins in barely half an hour. To her, things were going well. She felt a little bad that Chalk wasn't selling any, but he was just lounging around after all. She had no idea that things were about to make a very dramatic shift.

Crayon spotted a lost looking young man frantically moving around the courtyard. He locked eyes with Chalk. Chalk waved at him and the young man ran right over. The young man stuttered as he spoke.

"H-Hey man. That's a starfish, right?"

He was pointing to a crude drawing Chalk had made on the sign. Chalk tapped at it.

"This? Sure is. Buying anything?"

"Green hat!"

Chalk kept a straight face, but his eyes had a happy glint to them.

"I think we still have some."

"I'll take the one you're wearing if that's cool. How much?"

"Relax. I'm sure we have others here."

Chalk leaned back and grabbed a green hat from the box and placed it in his lap before folding his hands over it. His eyes sharpened.

"That'll be 30000."

The customer was stricken by the price and visibly sweat in reaction. Crayon was confused, but afraid to say anything out loud. The green hats were nearly identical to the pink ones. Why did they cost 15 times as much? Why would anyone buy it for that much? She couldn't believe it when the young man actually forked over the payment and took his hat. Crayon watched the customer as he disappeared off in the distance. She could only barely contain herself. Once the coast was clear, Crayon shuffled over to Chalk.

"What did you do to that hat?"

"Nothing. It's just a hat."

"Then why did he just pay so much cash for it?"

"Because of its "special ability"."

"What special ability?"

"The one I made up."

Chalk had a wicked smile plastered on his face.

"I spread a rumor that a new type of unofficial gear makes you more likely to play against teams of less than 4 in the games. I let them know that I happened to get my hands on some and was selling a limited supply right here in Inkblot."

"And people believed, just like that?"

"Not everyone will buy it, but a small desperate minority will. Plus I kept the estimation pretty modest. Only a 3% increase in probability. It's small enough that they'll never be able to tell if it really works and just big enough to make them think it gives them an edge."

"How underhanded..."

"The best part is that anytime they fight a 3-man team just by chance, they'll convince themselves it was the hat."

Crayon didn't necessarily like being dragged into a nefarious plot, but she probably would have helped Chalk anyway if he'd just asked. But wait, why WAS she here? The pink hats didn't seem to factor into his plan at all. Maybe it was a backup plan. There just couldn't be that many people that would fall for his trick, so maybe he needed her to make money in case his big plan failed. Crayon reasoned this must be the case.

A new costumer arrives. He says he saw a girl wearing one of the hats and thought it looked pretty fresh. He asks Crayon for the price and she hands him a pink hat. He refuses it and asks for a green one instead. Crayon apologizes.

"I'm sorry but that one has a different price..."

"How much is the difference?"

"Umm. The green ones are 30000."

"What's with that?! What are they autographed?"

Chalk cut in.

"They're not your ordinary pieces of head gear. They have a very unique ability."

"Really? What is it?"

"You ever start a game when one of the teams has less than a full roster?"

"Uh, yeah. Who hasn't?"

"Well did you know that the matchmaking system uses a special algorithm to determine who fights against an incomplete team? These hats adjust one of the values used in that algorithm to make it more likely for your team to be chosen."

"Is that legal?"

"Heh."

Chalk leaned in to whisper to him.

"Not really, but it's not like it's really cheating. Someone has to fight those incomplete teams, right?"

"Where did you get these?"

"It's my secret. Interested?"

"I dunno. 30000 is a lot more than I thought I'd spend today, and I don't want to get busted. Can I think about it?"

"You can think about it for the rest of your life because I guarantee you these'll all be gone by tomorrow. That's why I already picked one out for myself. I've tried it. It really works."

"Do you think you'll ever get more?"

"Not a chance."

"Nnnnn…okay, I'll buy one."

"Smart man."

The customer tucked the hat into his coat and went on his way.

As the day went on, Crayon and Chalk sold more merchandise. Crayon sold the most, but the amount of money Chalk earned easily dwarfed what Crayon had. Their sales were few and far between in the beginning, but as time passed, buyers were coming more frequently. Almost all of them came to Crayon originally, but Chalk had a way of stealing them away from her. Later on, Crayon had sold nearly all of the hats she had, but she honestly felt like she had hardly contributed at all. When Chalk had a free moment, she took her chance to speak with him.

"Chalk, here's the money I collected so far."

"Great job. You've probably done enough for the day. Take a break. You've earned it."

She caressed the tips of her tentacles in low spirits, as she watched Chalk add her paltry sum to his overflowing cashbox.

"Sorry, I couldn't be more helpful."

"What are you talking about?"

Chalk shook his cashbox around.

"You were plenty of help."

"But barely any of it is what I gave you."

"You're missing the bigger picture. I wouldn't have sold half as many if you weren't helping out."

Crayon was sure he was just being nice. Chalk raised an eyebrow at her.

"I see you don't believe me."

Chalk stood up and stretch his back.

"You said you like when I explain things, right? Then listen up. I want you to take a look around and tell me how many people you see wearing a green hat."

Crayon scanned the area. There were students moving here and there. Some were bunched into groups or relaxing. Many were wearing one of her pink hats, or had one sitting nearby. Crayon's eyes widened.

"There aren't any."

"Finally noticed? Where could they all be?"

"Did they…explode?"

"That possibility is beside the point. These may just be ordinary hats, but to the buyer, they're contraband. And you don't wear illegal goods on your head."

"Oh. That makes sense. But I still don't see how I helped."

"Remember how I said I spread a rumor about the hats to attract customers? If I had to estimate, "I'd say roughly three marks today had actually heard of it. Gossip really isn't the best way to advertise. On the other hand, if everywhere you looked, you saw everyone wearing the same hat, you'd naturally get a little curious, right?"

"So the pink hats were like ads for the green ones?"

"Exactly. Once they came over to see what all the fuss was about, I offer them the better deal."

Crayon beamed with big liquid eyes.

"So then I really helped?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have involved you if I didn't think you could. But there was one other reason, but I guess it hardly matters now."

Just as Chalk had finished saying this, a very tall and broad man approached him from behind. He placed his hand heavily on Chalk's shoulder.

"Do you mind if I ask what you're doing here?"

Chalk had an anguished look on his face before turning around with a smile to face a very imposing officer.

"Didn't see you sneak up on me. We're just selling some handmade hats. Are we not supposed to be here?"

"Why don't you tell me? What's in the boxes?"

Chalk stepped back and opened up both boxes.

"Just hats. See?"

The policeman poked around in the boxes for a bit and peeked inside a few hats.

"What are you selling these for?"

"It's a sort of fundraiser, but we're not advertising it as one."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's for a personal reason, and I'd rather not make it other people's business. That's all."

"Really?"

The officer pointed to Crayon.

"You. What are you really… Wait. I recognize you. Didn't I see you kids in the alleys behind the Lobby the other day?"

Crayon tried to recall.

"Oh, you're the same cop from before. I just noticed that."

"Why does it always seem like you two are up to something weird?"

Chalk scratched at his temple.

"Umm, I don't think we're doing anything weird…"

The policeman glared hard and suspiciously at Chalk.

"How much do you sell these hats for?"

Crayon answered immediately.

"2000 coins."

The policeman's expression hardened somewhat as he turned his attention toward her.

"How much money have you two made?"

Crayon looked meekly shrunk back as he approached her.

"We haven't counted it yet."

"Then why don't you just show me?"

Chalk tapped him on his back, "I have the profits right here.", as he presented a cashbox.

Crayon bit at her lips nervously as the policeman took the box from Chalk and opened it. Coins clanged against the metal box as the man pushed his finger around the money.

"You kids did pretty well."

He handed the box to Crayon, still opened, and she could see there was considerably less money than she had seen before. She shut the box closed and looked towards Chalk who signaled at her with a wink.

The policeman rubbed his knuckle against his chin.

"So you're just selling hats, huh?"

Chalk cocked his head innocently.

"Uh, yeah. We've been doing it all day. Just ask anyone who bought one. They're all over."

"Hmm. You know, legally you need a license to run a business."

"I didn't know that. Are we in trouble?"

"…Nah. Just a thought I had. You kids just stay together and stay safe. There must be almost 60000 coins in there. Someone might try to take it."

"We'll be careful."

"Right. Right. Just in case we see each other again, I'm Captain Stamp of the Inkopolis Police Station. Sorry if I made you kids nervous. I was only looking out for you."

"No problem. We're okay."

The policeman left and Chalk decided to wrap things up soon afterward. Crayon frantically questioned him about the exchange later. He explained to her that the other purpose of Crayon's side of the business was to act as a cover for the more illegitimate half. It was easily to conduct his shady dealings if he had someone more genuine to hide behind. A second cashbox was prepared in case someone decided to take a look at their earnings. Chalk filled it with his pocket money. To him, these were merely basic precautions.

Crayon lay in bed that evening with her head spinning from the events of that day. It was so confusing, but exciting. So scary, but fun. She would've spent the whole night reliving the memory if she wasn't so eager to fall asleep so she could start the next day. It was becoming clearer to her that she and Chalk were extremely different people. He did crazy things that she would normally object to, but he sure was amazing. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought to herself that maybe he was really her friend after all.

Meanwhile in a lonely old art studio, a young artist was screaming to an audience he hadn't yet realized wasn't there.

"In conclusion, my palace is rated A for Avant-garde! All ages welcome!"

He turned with dramatic flair and extremely short of breath. He faced the empty room for several seconds and closed his eyes with fulfilment.

"I've left him speechless once again."


	4. Pay a Fortune

It was like any typical day, Chalk and Crayon were standing in front of a suspicious rundown building with a poorly made neon sign, simply spelling the word "Loan$".

"This place is kinda scary, right?"

"Hmm."

"Are the people here friendly?"

"Hmm."

"That's not really an answer."

"Take this and find a way to occupy yourself."

Chalk handed Crayon some money which she didn't take.

"You're leaving me behind again? Why can't I come in with you?"

"Pens and his gang are a little rougher than Icing and Graffiti. You wouldn't know how to handle yourself."

"I can handle myself, I promise. I'm streetwise now!"

"I strongly insist that you aren't. Now please just stay out."

"But how will I know you'll be okay? What are you even going to do in there?"

"It doesn't matter. Just stay here and out of trouble."

Chalk stepped inside and shut the door behind him, leaving Crayon feeling alone and cold.

Crayon wandered about for a bit, much further than she probably should have. She wouldn't have been able to find her way back, but that thought wasn't on her mind. Why did Chalk keep so much distance? She wished there was a way to get closer. She only wanted him to trust her more, but maybe he simply didn't trust her at all.

Crayon was entirely unaware that she was being watched by several shifty characters contemplating the best way to manipulate such a naïve and careless girl. One took the initiative and finally approached her.

"Hey blondie. Fancy seeing you out here all by yourself."

Crayon was surprised at first, but smiled once she saw the familiar face.

"Ahh! I remember you. You're Chalk's business friend, Icing."

"Yup yup, that's me. Don't let Chalk hear you use the word "friend" though. He hates that. So what're you doing? Lookin' for Chalk?"

Crayon pouted.

"No. He left me behind. So now I just have to wait for him to come out."

"Come out of where?"

Crayon took a look around, and her expression turned to one of childish worry.

"Guh. Where am I?"

She looked to Icing expectantly and teary.

Icing patted her on the head roughly.

"It's alright. If he's around he's probably at Pens' place."

"Pens! That's right! Chalk said he had to talk to his buddy, Pens."

"Did he really use the word "buddy"? Anyway, Pens would've loved you. Chalk is just a jerk. A real gentleman would escort his lady into the Yakuza den properly."

"Yakuza?"

"I dunno. Probably what it is. But if Chalk is gonna be a little punk, just ditch him."

"No! I wouldn't do that. He's the best friend I've ever had. Maybe the only one…"

Icing was covering her mouth with both hands as she stifled a wave of laughter.

"You must have really low standards."

Crayon was too downcast to care though. Feeling guilty and a little awkward, Icing tried to comfort her.

"Hey, whoa. I didn't mean it."

"I'm trying so hard, but sometimes I feel like he's fighting against me."

"Yeah, he'll do that."

"I just wish there was a way to learn more about him. Then maybe I could find out how to be less of a bother to him."

Icing was being genuinely sympathetic at first, but soon an idea hit her, and a high mischievous smile grew on her face.

"Ooooh. Hmmhmm. I think I might know exactly what you need. Ever heard of the psychic of Scratch Street?"

"Umm… no. Where's that?"

"… Here. We're there RIGHT NOW. Just turn around. The psychic's shop's right behind you."

"Oh, I see. What about it?"

"Not even a guess?"

"…"

Icing exhaled, looking vaguely dejected.

"They say there's no question she can't answer."

"…"

"That would include questions about Chalk."

"…Aah! Maybe she'll answer MY questions about him."

"Yeah, maybe... Great idea. Wish I thought of it. Why don't you just go on in?"

"What about Chalk?"

"I'll take care of it. You can trust me."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you so much."

Icing pushed her up to the door. Crayon bowed at Icing and pressed her face against the dark window, before timidly entering. Icing maintained a satisfied expression as she remarked to herself.

"Head full of air, that one. Ah well. At least that was easy."

Elsewhere in a broken down old building, Chalk was sitting on a worn out couch as he talked business with Pens. Large intimidating men loomed around him, but by far the biggest and most imposing was Pens himself. The colossal man towered over Chalk. Over twice his height and nearly 10 times his mass. A true giant if there ever was one. He reclined in his big cushiony chair and carried himself very casually as he gorged on several burgers and hotdogs as if they were bite-sized.

Chalk was making an offer.

"Sound like a good price to you?"

Pens had his feet on the table and was stretching out his arms, easily reaching the ceiling.

"It does. Very good. Very generous. But why don't you just bride him? He's only a quality inspector, little man."

"Bribes are trouble, and I'd rather hire you than give that chump any leverage over me. Besides, with as much as he's been poking around, I get the feeling he might just take his job a little too seriously. If a guy like that starts investigating the unofficial gear floating around town, some of it might lead to me."

"Always looking to stay on top. Just like me, eh little man?"

"Heh, something like that."

"We got a deal. We should celebrate."

"Nah. I gotta somewhere to be."

"Chill, little man. You gotta take a break from the game sometime. Get yourself a lady."

"Funny you say that."

"Hey, hey. Don't tell me you got a girl waiting? Haha! Knew you had it in ya. Don't let ma big self hold ya up. Go, go."

Pens lit himself a cigarette, and waved Chalk away. Pens was only jumping to his own conclusions, but Chalk wasn't going to correct him if it got him out of there without a hassle, especially since Pens' idea of a celebration usually meant a decent sized dent in Chalk's bank account.

Chalk stepped outside, expecting to see Crayon awaiting him nearby.

"Crayon. Hey Crayon!"

He thought to himself, "Where'd she go now?"

Chalk assumed she might have gotten lost whilst wandering around aimlessly, and was just about to track her down, before he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey Chalk."

"Icing?"

He wasn't expecting her to show up so suddenly, but he was too concerned about where Crayon might have ended up.

"I'm guessing you're here for me, but it'll have to wait. I'm a little busy at the moment."

Icing smiled cheekily.

"Hmmhmm. Is that so? Maybe I can help you out. Looking for…? Oh gosh, what was her name?"

"Crayon?!"

Icing snapped her fingers.

"That's the one. I know where she is."

Chalk could tell something was fishy. Icing being here was obviously too convenient. She wasn't just trying to sell him information this time.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Apparently a certain friend of hers was being cold lately and freezing her out. I just told her about a local psychic she could consult about her friend's intimacy issues."

"Psychic? You mean Pastel?! Why didn't you tell her she's a fraud?!"

"I forgot."

Icing cocked her head and frowned.

"I've been bad."

Chalk rubbed at his temple and appeared to be mouthing some words to himself. Icing seemed to be delighting in his pain.

"Well, I guess you better go rescue her or something."

"Why do you do this to me?"

Icing shrugged playfully.

"Who knows? But I know that Crayon only wanted to know a little bit more about her little friend. Maybe you could work on that."

Chalk growled and pushed Icing out of his way. He headed down the street toward the psychic's shop, but turned around once before leaving.

"I'm going, but not because you said to."

Icing waved contently.

"Whatever. That was my plan anyway."

On the other end of the block, Crayon sat alone in a very dim room adorned with various mystical-looking ornaments, patiently awaiting her turn. Suddenly a woman came running and screaming hysterically from the main room and out of the building. It gave Crayon enough of a start to jump out of her seat. It was followed very shortly by a nonchalant "Next."

Crayon picked herself off the floor and passed through a curtain of beads into the main room. There was only darkness awaiting her besides the faint glow of an orb of glass. Crayon drew closer to touch it, but before she could, a face unexpectedly popped up from behind it.

It greeted her with a startling, "Welcome!"

At the same time, lights all around her turned on, but they were only barely bright enough to illuminate the table and the woman sitting behind the orb. Crayon could distinguish the objects around her a little better, but she was still frightened. She wished Chalk was there. She unconsciously took a step backwards towards the doorway, but a hand reached out to stop her.

"Take a seat, darling. We have much to discuss."

"W-We do?"

"Oh yes. I sense you have problems that only I can solve."

Crayon sat down at the table, being half dragged down by the woman pulling at her arm. She was able to get a better look at the woman's face from there, but strangely she couldn't tell whether the woman was old or young.

The woman finally released Crayon and introduced herself as she swirled her hands around her orb.

"Good afternoon, my child. I am Madam Pastel, a medium to the spirit world. What is it you seek?"

Crayon frantically searched her brain for the answer. Somehow, in all the excitement, she had forgotten.

Madam Pastel seemed to grow impatient with her.

"Surely, you've come to me for some reason. A question, perhaps?"

"That's right! A question. I have questions about my friend."

"The spirits know all. What is your question?"

Crayon breathed in and leaned forward.

"What's his favorite color? What's his middle name? When's his birthday? Who's his favorite idol? Where was he born? Which way does his toilet paper face?"

Madam Pastel interrupted her by banging on the table.

"Agh! Enough! Such an annoying girl."

Crayon was taken aback by this, and looked like she wanted to leave.

Madam Pastel quickly regained her composure.

"I'm apologize my dear. But it seems you have upset the spirits."

"The spirits? I have?"

"Yes. They tell me these are not the questions you truly wish to ask."

"They aren't?"

"No. I need you to look deeper, and find your true question."

The two endured a long period of silence as Crayon stared at Madam Pastel, completely at a loss.

Madam Pastel grew impatient once again and spoke.

"I sense you have strong feelings for this friend."

"Yes! He's a very important friend to me."

"Mmhmm. I sense an even stronger bond. This friend is closer to you than just a friend."

"He's…. my brother?"

"No!"

Madam Pastel took a deep breath and collected herself.

"I sense you have love for him. And the spirits are speaking to me. They say, he has love for you as well."

"Really?! But that doesn't sound like him…"

"That is merely because he hides a great secret. Aaand…"

Madam Pastel gasped in shock.

"This secret! What horror!"

Crayon stood up, anxious with worry.

"What?! What is it?!"

"It can't be! Yes. Yes! Without my wisdom, his very life is at stake!"

"What's wrong?!"

Madam Pastel shut her eyes and grew silent. She fell back into her seat as if exhausted.

"I'm sorry, but we must stop here."

"W-We can't! What about Chalk?!"

"The danger. The danger is just too great."

"To Chalk?"

"To me! Requesting this much of the spirits would be a great burden."

"Then there's nothing we can do?"

Madam Pastel sighed.

"This is terribly awkward, but now we must discuss payment."

"Oh. Right. How much would it cost for you to help me?"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Huh?"

"I must ask you to pay for the service I have already provided."

"But we haven't even-"

"I'm afraid I can speak no further until you have paid for the services already provided. It pains me to say so, but I must remind you that Chalk is in great peril."

"Alright. How much would it be?"

"A single fee of 10000 coins."

"10000?! I don't think I can pay that…"

"It's too late for that. I've already provided my assistance. It's only POLITE to speak up much SOONER if you have no intention to pay."

"It's not like that…"

"Don't tell me you would just go and deny me my due payment."

Truthfully, Crayon had the money that Pastel requested. She only had 3500 of her own money, but Chalk had given her 7500 coins to spend. She never thought of Chalk's money as her own and always felt she should return it in full at the end of the day. Madam Pastel was getting very upset and was pressuring Crayon quite a bit. She hated to do it, but Crayon handed over the money, and Pastel tenderly took it from her hands with a pleasant face.

Madam Pastel hid the money away in her blouse.

"Good, good. Now then, let's continue."

"Wait, a minute! I can't pay for anymore. We have to stop here."

"Wait? But your friend. A great shadow of death looms over him. The knowledge I have for you is absolutely vital. His life may very well be in my hands, and yours."

"B-But I can't afford it."

"We'll work something out. A payment plan. But that can wait for later. We must act with great urgency!"

Crayon struggled, but saw there was no other option but to accept.

"Okay…"

Madam Pastel looked very pleased. She licked her lips and began humming ominously.

"Let us now commune with the dark spirits of the dead."

As she rubbed her orb with her sleeves and looked up at Crayon with a dreadful expression, the room suddenly shook with the loud noise of someone slamming the front door open. Pastel was caught off-guard, but Crayon was convinced this was part of the ritual. Crayon went pale as she soon found a hand on her shoulder. She dared not turn around, her face slowly distorting into a silent wail.

The hand began rocking her back and forth, sending a chill through Crayon. But it was accompanied by a comforting voice.

"Crayon, we're going."

Crayon responded with squeaky glee.

"Chalk!"

Madam Pastel was angered by this disturbance.

"Young man, you are interrupting my important work."

"Save it, old lady. We're leaving."

Madam Pastel grit her teeth with a twinge of anger.

"I see. You must be her friend."

"Yeah, nice work psychic. Let's go, Crayon."

Crayon almost stood up, but her eyes met with Pastel's as she glared at Crayon. Crayon remained firmly in her seat.

"I can't yet. Just come back later. I have to hear what she has to say."

Chalk placed his hand over his face in exasperation.

"What could you possibly need to know?"

Madam Pastel shook her head at Crayon. Crayon saw this and clenched her teeth before answering Chalk.

"I… I can't tell you."

Chalk furiously scratched at the hair beneath his beanie.

"Can't you tell that all of this is fake?"

Madam Pastel spoke with condescension.

"What would you know of the mystic world?"

"I know that you're a sham, and you don't know a thing."

"Hmm. I know that your name is Chalk."

"Lucky guess."

Crayon thought that this was a strange thing to point out, because she had mentioned his name a few times, even just a moment ago. She felt that surely Chalk should have picked up on that.

Chalk looked a bit confused.

"What else could you know about me?"

Madam Pastel peered knowingly into her orb.

"I see. I see. You are a very secretive person. You don't share anything about yourself, even with those closest to you."

"How could you know that?"

"Sit down and I can tell you much more."

Chalk looked skeptical but he pulled out a chair beside Crayon.

Madam Pastel closed her eyes and mouthed some words to herself, while she made strange facial expression like she was having a conversation the two couldn't hear.

She opened her eyes with a jolt.

"It's all clear to me now. You, young man, are very concerned about someone close you."

"Uh huh…"

"Mmm, but it is not the girl beside you."

Chalk was instantly intrigued.

Madam Pastel ran her finger around her orb.

"Is it a member of your family?"

"..."

"Ah. Yes, it is."

"This person is… your father."

Chalk made a scrutinizing expression in response.

Seeing this, Madam Pastel swiftly corrected herself.

"No, your mother!"

Chalk's face filled with amazement.

However Crayon, watching the exchange from the outside, couldn't believe how gullible Chalk was being. Pastel was clearly just reading Chalk's reactions to everything. She paused after every statement just to gauge his response, and she was even outright wrong when she mentioned Chalk's father. Even Crayon could tell without Chalk having to say anything. Pastel just changed her answer immediately and Chalk acted like she was never wrong. Why wasn't he noticing any of this? Crayon was dumbfounded. She thought back and remembered that it was only a moment ago that Pastel seemed so genuine. Crayon realized that she must have looked like a complete fool herself, and now she felt terrible for giving away Chalk's money to this trickster. She couldn't let this go on.

Crayon tugged at Chalk's sleeve, trying to get his attention. Madam Pastel immediately interfered, pinning Crayon's arm to the table.

"PLEASE don't interrupt our session, my dear. Your session is over. Now you're putting your friend's future in jeopardy."

Crayon was terrified by the woman's tenacity. Her hand felt like a claw burrowing into Crayon's skin.

Chalk barely glanced back at her.

"Hang on, Crayon. It can wait 'til later. I need to hear this."

Crayon tried to vocalize her thoughts, but she was paralyzed by Pastel's predatory glare.

Chalk looked to Pastel with eager eyes.

"Please go on. What can I do about my mother?"

Pastel traced a strange symbol into her orb.

"I see it. You are in great conflict with her."

"That's exactly right, but what can I do."

"Your problem cannot be solved by regular means. You are very lucky that you found your way to me."

"What do I need to do?"

"Ah. The answer is clear, but I'm afraid I cannot speak it."

"Why not?!"

"The spirits demand another debt be filled."

"What debt?"

"You see, I'm embarrassed to even say it, but your friend has not yet paid her fee."

Crayon was astounded and insulted.

"Hey, wait!"

Pastel slammed on the table.

"I MUST ask that the uninvolved stay silent!"

Crayon angrily stood up, but Chalk held her back. Crayon couldn't take it anymore. She was determined to drag Chalk away if she had to. But he turned to her for brief moment, without saying a word, he winked at her. Crayon sat back down, now unsure of what was going on.

Chalk pleaded with Pastel.

"I'll pay both of our fees. Would that be acceptable?"

"As long as you agree to accept both of your debts."

"I am. Please continue."

"Don't be so hasty, child. My fees are quite expensive."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I can pay it."

"Very well."

Madam Pastel put on kindly face before letting out cruel words.

"The first fee comes to 100000 coins. The second can be discussed later."

Chalk was aghast.

"I-I don't have that much on me."

"Yes, but you've already agreed to pay. I hope you have some means."

Chalk appeared to be searching his mind for an answer.

"A bank card! I happen to have my mother's card with me. I could withdraw some money, but I don't think she'd let me spend that much…"

"That is troubling news. But backing out of a contract at this point would incur a great curse on the both of you. I cannot be held responsible for whatever misfortune befalls you. You agreed to the conditions willingly."

"But my mother would never approve of this."

"Can't you see, my child? You have no choice. Your future is on the line. She must be a very wicked woman to allow her child to suffer such a fate."

"But I still don't see how I could ever convince her."

"Perhaps you should take fate into your own hands."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to accept a fate another has chosen for you. You could take the money and return to me. I would never turn you away."

"But that's stealing…"

"A small sacrifice for your life and spirit. If you cared for your life, you would do whatever you must to pay the debt owed to me. The money means much more to you than it ever could to that wicked woman. It belongs to you, so take it."

Chalk seemed to ruminate on the subject.

"Maybe you're right."

He reached into his pocket, as Crayon watched with dread. She couldn't understand what Chalk could be thinking. She was seconds away from grabbing his hand and running away with the contents, but the wink flashed back into her mind. One clear thought filled her mind. "Chalk wouldn't do this." She held tightly onto her seat and watched on.

Madam Pastel held out her hand to receive her payment, but instead she was only blinded by a flash of light. Chalk wasn't holding his wallet. It was his phone. For some reason, he took a picture of Madam Pastel.

Chalk examined the picture on his phone.

"This'll do."

A venomous smile peeled across his face.

"Well then. Let's start the negotiations."

Madam Pastel laughed nervously.

"What do you mean, my child? I must ask that you do not take pictures without permission. Please delete it right away. Here."

She reached for the phone but Chalk held it back from her.

Pastel leaped forward trying to snatch the phone from him from across the table.

Chalk dangled his phone playfully.

"This? You don't want this."

He tossed the phone to Crayon, and reached into his coat pocket.

"I'm sure what you REALLY want, is this."

Chalk revealed a small audio recorder, still recording.

Madam Pastel froze for a moment and her pupils shrank. Her body grew cold as she realized that it must have recorded their entire conversation. She sprang forth like an animal, clawing at the air trying to grasp the recorder.

"Hand that over, brat!"

Chalk hopped out of his seat and evaded her bony fingers.

"Hmm. I don't know how the police feel about all this psychic mumbo jumbo, but I'm certain they have a problem with extorting money from a minor. Encouraging me to turn to a life of crime to pay your "fees" is no small matter either."

Hearing this, Crayon snorted out a small laugh, but quickly quieted down.

Chalk raised an eyebrow at her, and Crayon apologized with her eyes.

Madam Pastel's voice turned much raspier.

"Fine! I'll forgive your fees. Now hand it over!"

"You didn't charge my friend anything?"

Pastel reached into her gown and pulled out the money, now visibly hanging out, and threw it at Chalk.

"There! Happy?"

Chalk twirled the device around in his hand.

"I dunno. The responsible thing would be to hand this right over to the police with your picture, but I haven't made a single coin all day… Buy it from me."

Pastel was incensed at this demand.

"You're blackmailing me?!"

"You can think of it as a bribe if you want."

"Ergh. I'll give you 2000."

Chalk looked disgusted.

"Really? I should just walk out of here, right now."

"Okay! 5000."

"It's gotta be worth more than that to you."

"How much do you want?!"

"Hmm… How does 500000 sound?"

"Are you insane?!"

"I guess you don't have to pay it. You could weigh your options. Risk getting arrested, pack up and leave town, or pay me off now. I wonder which is cheapest."

Pastel ground her teeth loudly. Her eyes bulging from her head.

"500000, then. And I never want to see you again."

"That's more like it. 500000. Going once, twice. And-"

Crayon abruptly shouted,

"550000!"

Chalk was surprised.

Pastel's jaw hung down like it disconnected from her skull.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Chalk smirked.

"Product goes to the highest bidder."

Pastel clenched her teeth so tightly that a crack appeared.

"This is just plain robbery."

"If you don't have a higher bid, then, once, twice-"

"600000. Is that fine?! You scum."

Crayon tried to yell out another number, but Chalk covered her mouth.

"We've pushed it far enough. Sold."

Chalk left the shop with swagger. He delighted in every bounce he felt in his heavy pocket. However, Crayon, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically gloomy.

She sniffled.

"Thanks for saving me. That could've been really bad. I'm so dumb. You were right? I'm not street smart at all."

"Yeah… Guess that means I should keep a closer eye on you from now on."

"Um. Does that mean you won't leave me outside when you do stuff anymore?"

"That's one interpretation."

"Really? That's great!"

Chalk sighed.

"It feels a bit like you didn't learn anything."

"I learned a little. I learned that psychics are bad and fortunes are illegal."

"…I don't even know what to say to that."

"It's too bad for that liar lady that she tried to fool you. You even told her that you didn't believe in psychics. What was she thinking anyway?"

"I'm sure she didn't think she could fool me, but if she did nothing, she'd lose a customer. Alternatively, if she managed to persuade me, she'd gain a new victim and maybe even keep the old one. It was a long shot, but she had nothing to lose as far as she could see, so she went for it."

"I still can't believe I fell for her obvious tricks so easily."

"It's nothing unusual. Desperate people always lose their head when you tell them what they want to hear. I used the same trick on her. Greedy people never hesitate to take things handed to them, so it was easy to lead her by the nose until she said exactly what I wanted."

"It was lucky you had that recorder on you, huh?"

"I always have at least 3 of those on me at all times."

Chalk pulled another recorder from a secret pocket in his hood.

"Incidentally, two were recording our special conversation."

"Wow! What are you gonna do with the other one? Turn it into the police?"

"Pfft. No. Why would I do that? I wouldn't get a single thing out of it. I'll probably just hang onto it in case I need a little leverage someday. A nice recorder is a little pricey, but they come in handy in unexpected ways."

Crayon grasped Chalk by the hand and bit her lip, looking apologetic.

"I'll pay you back for it, I promise."

Chalk was confused.

"For the recorder?"

"Yeah. I'll pay you back. The 7500 coins too."

"Huh? You mean the 7500 you gave Pastel that I took back from her anyway."

"That's right, and anything else you spent on me too. I'll pay it all back. Just give me time."

Chalk paused in amazement. Then he laughed and clasped Crayon's hand in his.

"I'm not the type to turn down something I want. Sounds good to me. Oh and, completely unrelated… erm…if there's ever something you might want to ask about me, I promise I'll tell you."

Crayon took the lead and started dragging Chalk along with a bright smile.

"I should've known everything she said about you was wrong."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Then does that mean you really do have some big secret? Would you ever tell me?"

"…I will. Not today. But I will."

"Alrighty, I trust you."

"Most people would say you're naïve for that."

"I think when it comes to being naïve, I'm in a league of my own."

She proudly stepped towards the sunset as Chalk sighed, being the only one of the two to realize that home was the other way.


	5. Playing It Safe

Chalk and Crayon were spending a cool afternoon loitering around a Chubby's.

Crayon was inspecting a few of the ads placed on the windows.

"Hmm… Everything here looks kinda weird. What would you order?"

"Literally nothing."

"Then what are we here for?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Then let's ask Icing. Isn't she like the knowing-stuff-person around here?"

"Nah, she makes most of her money philandering with men. I've just got a special arrangement worked out with her."

"Philandering?"

"Besides, it shouldn't be too hard to find him. It's not like he's hiding… I hope."

A person came through the doors behind Chalk.

"You're in the way."

Chalk sidestepped.

"Sorry."

"I need more room than that."

Chalk looked at Crayon and she was staring upwards like a terrified small creature.

Chalk turned around to see who was behind him, and wasn't too surprised.

"Oh hey, Pens."

Pens stood almost as high as the Chubby's and held a sack of burgers large enough to injure someone with their weight alone.

"Little man? What're you doing here? Don't you always complain about the food here?"

"Not here to eat."

Crayon was clinging to Chalk's back and trembling.

"THIS is Pens?"

This is typically how someone reacted to seeing him for the first time. Utter terror. Chalk had gotten somewhat used to his size, but even he was still a bit tenser whenever Pens was around.

Pens looked down on the pair and scratched his beard with a sneer.

"Hoho. You really do have a lady, ey."

Crayon immediately returned to her usual plucky demeanor.

"Hello, I'm Crayon."

Pens was amused by her jarring shift in emotion.

"Heh. Good to meet ya, little lady."

Chalk sighed as Crayon smiled with her chin still poking into his shoulder.

"So anyway, Pens, you haven't seen Prints around, have you?"

Pens' eyes rolled to the right as if he were trying to recall.

"…Which one was Prints again?"

Pens was never good with names. He always called everyone "little man" or "little lady". Chalk was fairly sure that Pens didn't even know his name was "Chalk".

Chalk tried to illustrate Prints' appearance.

"You know the one. He looks kinda like you. Same haircut, except you're… he's skinnier."

Pens snapped his fingers.

"Oh right, right. The nerd. Why didn't ya say so? He's here."

"Here? I haven't seen him."

"He's stinking up the restroom."

"Gross."

"Right? If ya askin' me, he ain't comin' out any time soon."

"Augh… This is gonna a be pain. Thanks for the tip."

Pens was already walking off before Chalk finished talking. He was too focused on his burgers to care about much else.

Crayon waved at him as he left.

"Bye."

Chalk held the doors open for Crayon.

"Come on, Crayon. Looks like we're going inside."

"But what if it's not unisex?"

"Wha…? I didn't mean the bathroom."

"Restroom."

"Is there even a difference? Can you just get in?"

Chalk went straight for the men's room and started banging on the door.

A low moan came from inside.

"Ooough… Occupied."

Chalk hit the door again.

"Prints, get out here! I need the thing."

"Chalk?! Nnnnugh. This isn't the best time."

"I don't care. You said I'd have it by now."

"Ggggruh. I'm sorry, it's not ready yet. Can't you wait until I finish?"

"No, now get out here and get it done!"

Crayon stood next to Chalk.

"Maybe he's not feeling very well. What's he making for you anyway?"

"It's a little complicated to explain, but basically it-"

Prints suddenly raised his voice.

"Wait Chalk, who is that?! Who's out there?! Did you bring a girl with you?"

"…Yeah."

"What?! Aww man. Why would you do that?! Has she been there the whole time? This is so embarrassing! She better not be cute?"

Chalk yelled back in annoyance.

"Why should that even matter?! I need you to focus on the real problem here!"

"Ulgh. I'm really not feeling my best, Chalk. I can for sure get it to you tomorrow."

"I need it today, Prints!"

Crayon feeling a bit more conscious of her presence whispered to Chalk.

"Is there really no other way to do this?"

"Without Prints' help, I'm absolutely stuck. He's not usually this unreliable."

"Maybe I could try talking to him."

"That's….hmm…"

Chalk mulled the idea over for a moment and finished with a sinister smirk.

"That's a good idea, Crayon."

"Oh, really? What should I say?"

"Heh, whatever's on your mind should work just fine."

Crayon eagerly jumped at the opportunity to be of assistance.

"Ok. I got it, Chalk. I can handle this."

Crayon rapped at the door delicately.

"Hello, Mr. Prints?"

Prints groaned.

"Hrrougn. Oh no."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oof. No. Please no. I'm just fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"Errrum. Stop listening, please."

"I could come in and bring you something."

"Aaaaah. Chalk! Get her away from the door. I'm dying of shame here, man."

Chalk scooted Crayon away and signaled that she did a good job. She didn't understand what she did, but felt proud of herself.

Chalk kicked at the door.

"Finally ready to give me what I need?!"

"Fine! You don't gotta yell so much. I'm stressed out enough as is. I'll finish it on my phone and email it to you."

"Perfect."

"Do you think that girl will forget about this? Her voice was so pretty."

Crayon delightedly replied.

"Thank you."

Prints' heart nearly stopped.

"…Is she still there?! Why didn't you warn me, you jerk?"

"I can't predict every time you're gonna say something stupid."

"Can you please just leave already?! You'll have it in 5 minutes. I guarantee it. So just go."

"Was that so hard?"

"It was the most stressful moment of my life! Leave, please!"

Chalk was staring at his phone as he and Crayon walked away from the Chubby's. It gave a sharp ping.

"Wow, it's barely been two minutes. He's really fast when he puts his mind to it."

Crayon peeked at his phone but wasn't sure what Chalk had received.

"So what do we do now?"

"Well, now that that's done, let's go play some games."

Minutes later, the pair were standing in Inkopolis Square, directly in front of the Lobby. Crayon had no idea that Chalk meant to play Squad games that day. But she was incredibly excited at the prospect of doing something so very "friend-like" together with Chalk.

Crayon's eyes sparkled as she questioned Chalk incessantly.

"Are you really going to join a match?"

"Sure am."

"Oooo! What gear are you going to wear?"

"Same thing I'm wearing now."

"Are you really strong?"

"You'll see."

"What weapon do you main?"

"Which do you think?"

"The Bamboozler."

Chalk rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

"Ahaha… So funny. What about you?"

"Me?!"

"That's what I said."

"Oh, well. I usually just use whatever. I'm not very good. I might slow you down, actually."

"That won't be a problem."

"Really? Why not?"

"We're playing Ranked."

In Ranked matches the teams are entirely randomized, making it virtually impossible to play with friends. Crayon was initially shocked frozen by this revelation. But it didn't bother her a short while later. When she thought about it, she didn't really like playing Turf War or those other games very much. She was much more interested in seeing Chalk play, so she opted to just be a spectator for the day. Crayon stood behind him as he registered in the Lobby, watching everything he did with great interest, hopping with anticipation. In reality, he was merely signing up to play Tower Control using a rather dull computer interface.

Eventually they had to part ways as Chalk entered the waiting room, but before he closed the door behind him he gave Crayon a message.

"Keep a lookout for the name "Brush". That'll be me."

Crayon squealed with joy. She assumed Chalk would be using his normal name, but nicknames were so much cooler.

Crayon quickly rushed out to find the arena Chalk would be fighting in. She browsed through several electronic billboards searching for his name, having to remind herself several times that he would be using the name "Brush" instead of "Chalk". Nearly half an hour later she was able to find herself a seat in the correct location thanks to the aid of a helpful stranger. Chalk must have already completed several matches by now, but Crayon figured she could make up for the ones she missed by paying extra close attention to all of his remaining battles.

Chalk was easy to spot. He kept his hood over his face, but he was much smaller compared to most of the other athletes. It was strange once Crayon thought about it. The other competitors had incredibly impressive builds. They almost looked like REAL pros. She tried to wave to Chalk, but he didn't notice her amidst the massive crowd of people.

Crayon wondered to herself.

"Why did so many people come out to watch this match? Is Chalk really popular?"

Chalk didn't seem to be doing much, in fact, he seemed to be avoiding conflict altogether. Crayon thought it must be some kind of advanced strategy. Chalk always did seem to be a few steps ahead of most people. She finally thought to check the scoreboard, but was disappointed to see that Brush hadn't gained a single splat, and he wasn't helping at all with the objective either. But something else caught her eye and it was shocking enough to make her stand up and declare, "No way!"

Despite all appearances, Brush was ranked an S+. Technically the best player on his team. Crayon was certain now, Chalk was planning something to turn this situation around. There may have been only a minute left, but he'd definitely pull through somehow!

A minute passed and Chalk spent the entire time idling away in a quiet corner. His team lost, and they all seemed pretty upset with him, but he paid little mind to them. This loss was the last in a string of losses, causing Chalk to be demoted from S+ to S.

Crayon figured that must have been painful, so she decided to try and cheer him up. She ran up to the edge of the railing and started screaming "Hey!" at him before he exited the field. He managed to catch sight of her and signaled that he'd meet her outside.

Once he exited the play area, Chalk turned a corner and was immediately met with a corndog and drink being shoved in his face.

Crayon peeked over them.

"I bought these so you'll feel better."

Chalk took them with a puzzled expression.

"Thanks, but why do I need to feel better?"

"Because your rank dropped."

"Oh, that. All part of the plan."

"I think it would've been smarter to use that plan before losing so many- What are you doing?"

Chalk had popped the lid off of his drink and was dunking his corndog into the icy beverage.

"Nothing. I'm listening."

Chalk proceeded to remove his corndog from the drink and take a bite.

Crayon had an uncharacteristically disturbed and bewildered expression on her, and she watched for several seconds as Chalk continued to eat.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"That-That's horrible. How can you eat like that?"

"You're talking about the corndog? This can't be the worst thing you've ever seen me do."

"It's such a waste."

Chalk dipped his food in the drink again and took another bite and a sip of soda.

"No it isn't. I'm eating it."

"D-Does it taste good that way?"

"No."

"You don't even like it! Then why are you eating it?"

Chalk washed down another bite with more of his drink.

"I'm hungry."

"…"

Chalk finished off the last of his meal with a large gulp.

"Isn't there something else you'd rather ask?"

"I'm buying a new one."

"I really don't want-"

"I'M BUYING A NEW ONE!"

Crayon had a stunningly intense look in her eyes.

Chalk was taken aback and extremely confused.

"Um. Ok. Whatever you want."

Crayon breathed a heavy sigh of relief before turning around and leaving.

A short while later, she returned with a new corndog and a fresh drink and presented them both to Chalk.

"Enjoy."

Chalk removed the lid from his cup and moved the tip the corndog towards the opening.

Crayon grabbed him firmly by the arm, straining herself heavily to hold him back.

"No. You. Don't."

"Eating it the normal way takes forever."

Crayon pleaded with him.

"Please, just do it."

Chalk took a bite of the steaming treat, singeing his gums in the process.

He spoke with food still in his mouth.

"It's good. Happy?"

"Uh huh. Now eat the whole thing. I'll watch."

"Wouldn't you rather hear what I'm planning?"

"Later."

"Whatever you want…"

Chalk stood statically in one spot, eating his second meal at an ordinary pace, with Crayon staring uncomfortably closely at him the whole time.

Once he finished, Chalk stifled a belch before commenting.

"I didn't need to feel this full."

"But don't you feel much better? Now, what were we talking about before?"

It had been several minutes and Crayon had forgotten.

Chalk reminded her as he fished for his phone to check the time.

"I was just about to explain my plan to you."

"Oh yeah, that's been driving me crazy!"

"But you still forgot? Ugh. Too late. No time. If I don't get going soon, there isn't gonna be a plan."

"And you're just gonna leave on that?"

"Whose fault do you think it is that I don't have any time to spare?"

"Oh, right. Heh. Sorry."

Chalk pulled himself together and left a final word before heading back inside in a hurry.

"Look, long story short, I'm making a bet. I promise I'll fill you in by the end of the day. Wish me luck."

"Uh. You got it."

Crayon found her seat in the audience and watched on as Chalk continued to lose several matches throughout the hour. Occasionally he won a match due to sheer luck, and although Crayon wanted to cheer for his rare victory, he always seemed disappointed somehow.

She couldn't focus much on the actual match at all. Not that she could ever really follow typical play strategies in the first place. But all she could think about was what Chalk might be planning. She couldn't handle suspense. Crayon tried coming up with her own theories in the meantime, but none of them made much sense, even to her.

She thought that maybe he was trying to make his odds of winning worse so that he could bet on himself in one final match and make a killing. But if he loses because he ends up against someone really strong or just gets weak teammates by chance, he'll end up losing big. It was hard to believe he could win whenever he wanted when he couldn't even lose consistently.

Another idea she had was that maybe he made a bet that he could lose more than anyone else in one day, but the pure absurdity of that thought made her lose confidence in it pretty quickly. Losing isn't very hard and no one would make such a silly bet in the first place.

"What could he be up to?"

In no time at all, Chalk's rank dropped again and again. At last, he had fallen from S rank to A+. It was a painful thing to witness for most, but when this happened, Chalk's face was taken over by a massive expression of victory. Although he wasn't exerting himself as much as the other players, he was incredibly tense, barely meeting his deadline by a few minutes. He looked up at the crowd and signaled a thumbs up that confused most people.

Crayon didn't know exactly what Chalk did, but she knew that look well enough. He succeeded in whatever he was doing, and she was happy too. She gave a thumbs up back, even though she knew there was no way he could see it.

Crayon greeted Chalk on the outside.

"You did it!"

"Only just."

"…So?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you do?"

"I'll tell you on the way. We still have somewhere to be."

Chalk led Crayon towards another arena.

"Have you heard about the special S rank King of the Tower tournament?"

"Umm. Maybe…"

"Well they're having their final match today."

"And you're on one of the teams? That's incredible."

"No. I'm not. But Brush is."

"I thought YOU were Brush."

"Nope. I just had Prints write me up a program that let me borrow his Rank ID for the day."

"So you pretended to be him? Do you look like him?"

"Not even close. The guy is built like a brick house."

"Then how come no one noticed you weren't him?"

"Hundreds of players use the name "Brush". I'm sure no one gave the name a second thought."

"Oh. That makes sense. But, uh, why did you need to BE him again? Don't tell me you were just ruining his reputation for the fun of it."

"Like I'd waste so much energy on something that pointless. No, I placed a bet against his team. A big one, since they're the favorites to win. And since the tournament only allows S rank Tower Control players, Brush's team will have to either forfeit or play without their ace."

"I get it now! You're committing a crime."

"Heh. Aren't I always?"

Chalk and Crayon found some seats in the audience together.

Chalk leaned back with a foolproof grin.

"Now we just relax and watch things unfold."

It didn't take long for the routine check to discover that Brush was no longer an S rank. They couldn't understand what had happened but regardless of their protests, it was decided that he wouldn't be allowed to fight in the final match.

At first, Brush's team were completely crestfallen, but Brush took charge and led his team properly. He gave a rousing speech about never giving up and teamwork, and put the spirit back into them. He assured them that he was still fighting with them even if he couldn't participate.

Crayon cooed.

"Aww. They're such a good."

Chalk commented.

"Platitudes. They can't win the finals with a crippled team."

To Chalk surprise, Brush's team really seemed to pick up the slack. The match was neck and neck most of the time. It really made Chalk sweat a little, but ultimately they lost.

Brush celebrated with his team on their great match and both teams respectfully shook hands.

Meanwhile Chalk was clutching at his chest in relief as Crayon sympathetically patted his back.

Later on, Chalk met up with the bookie and collected his winnings.

Crayon looked back at the man strangely.

"That doesn't look like the bookie from last time. Did you break up?"

Chalk looked utterly exhausted.

"Using the same bookie makes it easier to get caught fixing."

"Oh, I didn't think of that. Need something to drink?"

"You gonna tell me how to drink it?"

"Only if you do it wrong."

It was clear that she was only teasing him.

Chalk was quiet for a moment before speaking.

"So, yeah. Sorry about dragging you all around today… and every day."

"What? No. I had fun. I always have fun."

"Hmm. I think you had something else in mind for today, right? Maybe we can try it another day. But I'll warn you, I'm garbage at Turf War."

"That's okay. Me too. I'd love to play a game with you some day. But you don't have to change your plans for me. I'd love to do just about anything with you."

"Huh. Is that really true?"

"It is."

"You know, it was kinda weird how you got so worked up over a corndog."

"Hehe, sorry."

"It's alright if you want to be a little demanding every now and then. As long as I'm not busy."

"Do you really mean that? That's great, because there is something I really want."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Tomorrow, I want to hang out with you all day again."

Chalk laughed and took her by the hand.

"Sorry. Nope. Busy that day."

"Huh?!"

"Yeah, I got some things to shill. But you could come along if you'd like."

"Well, I don't know what that means, so okay."

"Perfect. It's a date."


	6. The Challenge

A sharply dressed Inkling sits alone in a pleasantly lit reading nook. An older gentleman comes in, and the Inkling immediately questions him.

"You've returned earlier than expected, Note. What have you found?"

"The task was more difficult than I had initially assumed. It would seem the young boy you were looking for has a much more colorful background than expected. But, as promised, I've discovered his true identity and his current whereabouts."

"And you're certain you aren't mistaken?"

"Hmph, I may be your butler now, but I must remind you that I was once an extremely distinguished detective in my youth."

"I apologize, Note. The stories of your life have just been so remarkable that it's difficult to take them ALL as fact. But I'll trust you today."

"I thank you for your faith."

Note handed a thick file full of documents and pictures to his employer.

"And you'll still go through with this?"

"Now is no time to hesitate. People are calling him a prodigy. I won't tolerate someone taking something that is rightfully mine."

"I see you are adamant, but if you merely look through the file, you'll find considerable evidence that this boy is likely a cheat and charlatan."

"I've already realized that, Note. However, to achieve results like his would require more than simple dishonesty. He must be exceptionally clever as well."

"But he surely won't play fair."

"Are you doubting MY abilities now?"

"I would never. Your victory is assured."

"Bet on it."

The next day, somewhere in the back alleys of Inkopolis. Crayon was damp with perspiration and fanning herself with her hands.

"Chaaalk… It's hot."

"… I noticed."

"How much longer?"

"Graffiti should've been here with my supply by now."

"Maybe we got the place wrong."

"I followed his directions exactly. Plus the giant mural of his face he spray-painted on the wall is a pretty dead giveaway. This is definitely where we're meeting him."

"Maybe he just forgot."

"He… might have forgot."

"Why don't we just call him?"

"He used his phone as part of his latest art project just last week. I don't think he's gotten a new one yet."

"Do you think we should leave?"

"Without that package, I've got nothin' better to do today. He'll be here if we give him some time. That idiot must've gotten distracted by something."

"Hmm. Let's try taking our mind off of it. Maybe that'll make the wait go by faster."

"What'd you have in mind?"

Crayon shaded her eyes with her hand.

"Umm. Oh! How about that?"

She pointed to two men playing some kind of game, using a cardboard box as a table.

Chalk rested his head on his hand.

"What about it?"

"What is it? I've never seen that game before."

"It's an old game."

"What's it called?"

"A con."

Crayon was shocked by this revelation.

"But those two look like they're having so much fun."

"Look closer. They're exchanging money with every round. It's a gamble."

"Oh. I guess that's true. The man on the left is winning a lot of money. But the man on the right doesn't seem too unhappy. Maybe he doesn't mind."

"I don't doubt that. I'm sure things are going perfectly for the both of them."

"I don't get it. Who's being tricked then?"

Chalk stealthily pointed to a man watching the game, making sure only Crayon could see.

"The mark's just about to enter the game."

The man with the large amount of winnings stood up and declared that he had enough for the day and had to get home. The dealer graciously shook his hand and thanked the man for playing, and invited anyone to go next. The mark raised his hand before sitting down across from the dealer. The dealer explained the simple rules of his game. The dealer had placed three cards on the box and shuffled them around. He then asked the player to find the Jack. The player chose the card in the middle, but he was wrong.

Crayon cringed.

"I tried to follow the Jack with my eyes. I thought it was the same card. What bad luck."

Chalk chuckled at her naivety.

"You think so, huh?"

The player raised his bet and continued to play. But unlike the previous player, he only lost. A remarkable 10 times in a row. It seemed like he should have won at least once just by chance. An angry brow began to harden on his face.

Crayon commented to Chalk.

"I feel so bad for him."

Chalk covered his eyes with his beanie.

"Actually, so do I. He's not ready for what's coming next."

The player stood up and seemed like he was about say something. But he was interrupted as a man came dashing down the street screaming.

"The cops! The cops! Let's go! Go!"

The dealer ran away immediately. The player lost himself in the panic and nearly tripped over. He took off running in a random direction, leaving behind a few thousand coins that he didn't think were worth slowing down for.

Crayon jumped up and tugged at Chalk's arm.

"Wah! We should go too! Come on!"

Chalk resisted her.

"Relax. There's no cops. He's just another one of the dealer's pals."

"Pals?"

"I'll let you in on a secret. A good con never leaves things to chance. We always have a way to win in the end."

Chalk directed Crayon's attention back to the box that was used as a table. The man that was screaming earlier was circling around it as if he was waiting. A few moments later the dealer reappeared and collected his things off of the box. The two men were soon joined by the first player. The dealer showed them the money collected from the second player and it was split among the three of them.

Crayon absentmindedly poked Chalk hard on the cheek.

"Wha… What just happened?"

Chalk sighed.

"It's not obvious? They were together from the start. The dealer played with his partner to make it look like the game was easy. That was the bait. When the real player started to get suspicious, the second partner came in and disrupted the game, before the sucker could take back his money."

"Oooooh. I get it now. So they ended the game while they were winning so that they wouldn't lose anything. It would've been smarter if he stayed and kept playing."

"… You really don't get it at all."

"Sorry."

"There's no such thing as a smart gamble. The only way to win is to cheat, and that's exactly what they did. The reason he never picked the Jack is because they removed it from the game right after they showed it to him. It's a slight-of-hand trick."

"So like magicians?"

"Pretty much."

"That's really interesting."

"I guess."

Crayon sat back down with Chalk and a few seconds of silence passed between the two.

Crayon had a weary smile on her face.

"Hey Chalk."

"Yeah?"

"It's hot."

Chalk took a better look at Crayon and she didn't look like she could handle the heat for much longer.

Chalk took some money out his wallet.

"I should really stay here in case Graffiti ever decides to stop by. But, I'll tell you what. Here's some money to buy yourself an ice cream, and while you're at it, get me one too. The heat's kinda killin' me here."

Crayon face brightened up with glee.

"Alrighty. What kind do you want?"

"Surprise me. But, not too much."

"I know, I'll get you sherbet. That's always a surprise."

"Well, not anymore…"

Crayon took off in a random direction before turning around to see Chalk pointing at the ice cream and cake shop across the street from him, and she happily followed his direction and entered the correct store.

Once he was certain, Crayon was safely inside, Chalk started checking his phone for any new messages.

While he was temporarily distracted, a statuesque man tapped on Chalk's shoulder.

"Excuse me young man, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Without looking up, Chalk answered.

"Not interested."

"I'm afraid you don't have that option."

Suddenly on alert, Chalk didn't waste a second, and was instantly on his feet, ready to sprint away from the strange man. But before he could take a single step, Chalk's arms were pulled behind his back and he was pinned to the ground. Chalk was in shock, but still thinking clearly. He was afraid that he may have made a major mistake somewhere in his schemes. He struggled to think of who his attacker may be working for. Was it a victim, the police, or maybe a greedy crime organization? He wasn't sure. There wasn't enough information yet.

Chalk tried to question his attacker without giving away too much about himself.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The man cleared his throat.

"You don't know me, nor my employer. You're obviously not the sort to come quietly, but if you promise to come with me without much of a fuss, I'll allow you to play with a slinky until we reach our destination."

"A slinky? What are you, a 100?"

Before Chalk knew it, his hands were bound together, he was tossed into the backseat of a vintage vehicle, and driven away.

Crayon came out of the ice cream shop and dropped everything on the floor as her mouth hung open, before throwing her hands into the air and running after the old car.

"Chalk!"

It wasn't long before they were completely out of sight despite her best efforts to keep up. Crayon's feet gave out on her, as she was already enervated by the heat. She sat huffing on the ground.

"…Chalk!..."

Crayon pulled at her hair in frustration, unsure of what to do. But just then a familiar, but uncaring person passed her on the sidewalk. She put the last of her energy into standing up and grabbing onto him.

"Graffiti! Please, I need your help!"

He looked at her nonchalantly.

"Do I know you?"

"Yes! Yes! It's me, Crayon. I'm Chalk's friend."

Graffiti pretended to remember her.

"Oh, of course. Little Crayon. My apologies, but I was just on my way to meet Chalk now. I'm running a little late most likely. I hadn't anticipated it'd be this difficult to keep track of time without a phone. And I saw the most darling tea set on the way here. I bet if I crushed it into a fine powder and mixed it with oil, it'd make a splendid paste."

Crayon vigorously shook Graffiti.

"There's no time for that now! Chalk was just tied up and thrown into a car!"

"…Was it against his will?"

"…Yes!"

"Oh, dear! That is a problem! We need to go rescue him this instant!"

"Let's go!"

"But I don't know where he is…"

"… Me neither."

"Perhaps we should ask… um… Ice Pack?"

"Icing?"

"That's the one. We'll need her assistance. You'll be helpful in identifying her."

"Great!"

Chalk was blindfolded and placed on a comfy chair, still bound. He didn't try to escape, knowing that he was most likely still being guarded. He tried to ask questions, but he received no replies. Aside from the bindings, he was being treated fairly well. He wasn't being beaten or yelled at, so there was a chance that whoever held him captive wanted something from him. But then again, it could also mean they were saving all the punishment for later. Chalk decided to test this theory.

Chalk cleared his throat.

"Hey. Um. Can I get a glass of water?"

Chalk paused to let them answer and soon the silence was broken.

"Certainly. I'll hold it up to your mouth. Will that be fine?"

"Yeah. Sure, that'd be great."

Chalk took a sip of water, although he wasn't actually thirsty.

"So can I ask what I'm here for?"

"…"

"Right. Thanks…"

After several more minutes, Chalk heard a door open.

The man guarding Chalk finally spoke.

"I have him. Just as requested."

"Good. Remove the blindfold for me."

Chalk could finally see, his eyes still adjusting to light.

He could make out the silhouette of someone sitting at a desk.

"Who are you?"

"You don't know me. We've never met."

"Cool. Can I go now?"

"So eager. I'll cut right to the chase. I hate wasting time."

"I see no evidence of that."

"Humorous. Anyway, I'd like to challenge you to a game."

"And you needed to kidnap me for this?"

"It was only to simplify things. You're free to leave after you've heard what I have to say."

"Alright then. Let's hear it."

"My name is Check. I've been researching you, Chalk."

"Chalk? Um no. You've got the wrong guy."

Check seemed amused.

"Nice try. But I can tell you're lying."

"No really-"

"Don't even try it. I can see it in the dilation of your pupils and the contractions of your face muscles. Nothing but lies."

"Really?"

"A subtle difference, but I'm confident in my ability. But back to my proposition. I'd like to challenge you to a gamble."

"…Why?"

"There are rumors going around that a young gambling genius is sweeping through the underground gambling circuit. They say he never loses, and I believe that person is you."

"So you're just looking for someone to play with you?"

"More or less."

"Then no."

"Are you sure? Let me tell you a little about myself. From the very day I could speak, I've been heralded as fortune incarnate. I came to understand my massive talent as a gambler before I could even spell. But I was never satisfied. I honed my gift by rigorously studying psychology, statistics, exercise biology, criminology, and a large assortment of other topics in order to give myself even a slightest edge in gambling."

Chalk stared at Check with a disturbed expression.

"Uh huh. Why should I care about any of this?"

"Simple. Because I am a gambling prodigy, same as you. I would likely be the most challenging opponent you've ever faced. If you call yourself a TRUE gambler, you won't be able to resist such a competition."

"Well, I don't. So can I go?"

"I don't think you fully comprehend. Even if YOU deny your drive for pure victory, I certainly cannot. If another gambler is comparable to me, I MUST prove my superiority."

"Are you really that petty?!"

Check looked completely unashamed.

"That's right. Gambling means everything to me. I'm not afraid to admit that."

"Well it means basically nothing to me. You can call yourself the best or whatever. I really don't care. I just don't have the time to waste on you."

Check seemed a bit disappointed.

"I see. Note, untie him. He's free to go."

Note cut Chalk's bindings without hesitation.

"Very well."

Chalk rubbed at his wrists and stretched his back.

"Finally."

Chalk made his way to the door, still suspicious of how they were simply allowing him to leave. And just as he anticipated, they weren't finished with him.

Check leaned back.

"Yes. Chalk, you are free to leave, as long as you don't mind abandoning your wallet."

Note passed a worn but thick wallet over to his boss.

Chalk felt around the inside of his hoodie.

"How did you get that?"

Note stepped forward, proudly.

"I was part of a band of master pickpockets as a boy. Why it feels like just yesterday that-"

Check interrupted him.

"Thank you, Note. That'll be all."

Chalk slammed his hand on the desk.

"So you're just gonna rob me?! Some gambler."

Note was prepared to intercede, should Chalk try anything violent.

Check remained calm and collected.

"Are you calling me a thief? I would never just take your money. I merely holding onto it for you for whenever we have our match. You need funds for gambling, you know?"

Chalk backed away and rubbed his brow in frustration.

"Alright. Alright. I'll play a quick game with you. Happy?"

Check smiled at him.

"I am. But I'm afraid, a quick game isn't at all what I had in mind. We'll have our match at the Flower Horn Casino, right here in Inkopolis."

"Fine. Have whatever ridiculous theatrics you want. Just pick a date and make it soon. I'm a busy guy."

"Pick a date? I see you're confused. Our match begins right now. We're already at the venue!"

As soon as Check finished speaking, the room began to rumble, shaking Chalk off balance.

Check spoke haughtily to Chalk.

"What's the matter? Shaken up already? Heheh. By the way, I suggest you take your seat immediately."

Chalk didn't appreciate the attitude, but he did as he was suggested. And not a moment too soon, as the whole room began splitting apart, pulling Chalk and Check to opposite sides of what looked to be a giant arena in the center of bustling casino.

A monitor appeared in front of Chalk, framing Check's face.

Check looked fired up.

"Let's begin!"

Chalk yelled.

"What is this, you moron?! Is any of this necessary?! I don't even know what game we're playing!"

"I was just about to fill you in, and please watch what you say. We have an audience."

Chalk realized that if a camera was transmitting Check's image, there was probably one for him as well, and he tried to quickly cover his face.

Check chuckled at his struggle.

"You can relax. I forgot to inform you that our match is being broadcasts to certain casino's around the world. There's no point without witnesses, right? But I predicted that you might want to hide your identity. For all our audience can tell, I'm facing off against a shadow with a modulated voice."

Chalk lifted his beanie back up.

"Guess I'll just trust you on that."

"Good. Now allow me to explain the game. It's a gamble of my own creation. I call it the Splatfest Game."

"Hate to tell you this, but I think someone already did that idea."

"It's merely BASED on the game that you know. And don't worry, it's completely fair."

"I doubt that."

"You'll understand once I explain. Look to your left. You'll see a fax machine."

"Let me guess, it prints out the Splatfest topic."

"Correct, but it'll also print out 8 random distinct profiles. These will be the contenders of the Splatfest. They've been incentivized to win."

"And so I choose my fighters?"

"Hmph. Wrong. The fighters have already chosen their sides through a survey taken beforehand. Our only job is to predict the winner of the Turf War. We'll use the profiles to analyze each player and infer their abilities and which side they'll take."

"What if we pick the same side?"

"Simple. We can't. Only one of us will choose a team each round, while the other chooses the bet."

"Is there a limit to each bet?"

"You can bet your entire bank if you choose, but you must place a minimum bet of 10000 coins each round."

"Sounds simple enough. Who goes first?"

"I had a thought about that. How about a preliminary game to determine who chooses first?"

"Like flipping a coin?"

"Precisely what I had in mind. Would you agree that the chooser has an advantage in every individual round?"

"Obviously. If the winner is clear, then you might as well be gaining at least a free 10000."

Check pulled out a handful of coins from Chalk's wallet.

"Good, then how about this? I'll flip these 10 coins. You choose heads or tails. If any of the coins land on your choice, you can choose your team first."

"Just one, and I win? Maybe you want to go second after all?"

"I assure you, I have always taken the first turn in every game I've ever played. It's a minor thing, but I take pride in it all the same."

"Alright then. Toss the coins. I'll call it in the air."

Check threw the coins up and Chalk's monitor zoomed out so he could see the result.

Before they hit the table, Chalk shouted.

"Tails!"

But when they landed, miraculously, every single coin was heads.

Check swept the coins off of the desk.

"Well, it looks like my luck isn't to be underestimated."

Chalk sneered.

"Or this game is seriously rigged."

"I'd love to know how such a thing would even be possible, sadly I must admit that it was pure chance. My fortune frightens even me, sometimes. But's what's done is done. Let's begin."

Eight sheets of paper came out of the fax machine next to Check. Check looked them over quickly and chose a team. Soon a door opened up in the arena below them and 8 people came marching out. One side of the arena lit up with the word "Dogs" while the other said "Cats". They must have been the topic of the battle. But Chalk immediately noticed something strange. 7 of the players moved towards "Cats" while only one stood by "Dogs".

Chalk angrily questioned Check.

"What's going on here?! You never said the teams could be this lopsided!"

"Well of course it was a possibility. I told you that the participants for each round are chosen randomly. There's no way to make sure that both sides have the same number of members. We only know which team they belong to after we've chosen, although I admit that the teams split exactly as I predicted."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Do you really expect me to bet more than the minimum on Dogs winning?"

"Hmm. Now why would you have that problem? I'm the one that chose Dogs."

"What? You're saying you chose the team with only one fighter on purpose?"

"I know a winner when I see one."

"You must be joking."

"Not at all."

"Heh, I won't go easy then."

Chalk was just about to bet his entire bank on the first round, but for some reason he hesitated. Something felt strange. He felt like he was being swept away by something unseen.

Chalk paused.

"This isn't right. I'll bet… the minimum. 10000 coins."

Check scoffed at him.

"I thought you weren't going easy on me."

"Just testing the waters."

And with that. The first battle began. Almost immediately, the lone player on Team Dogs took control of the match. The other 7 tried to stick together, but were easily bombed all at once. The lone fighter seemed much more experienced than the others, and they were helpless and afraid. They tried to switch strategies, but they had no ability to organize and constantly fell into all of his traps. Despite the massive difference in numbers, Team Dogs completely dominated.

Chalk was aghast, but glad that he decided to change his bet at the last second.

Chalk's head was down as the players exited the arena and a flock of Squee-Gs came in to clean up the mess. In the meantime, Chalk's fax machine printed out the next theme and 8 new profiles.

Check had a look like everything went perfectly according to plan.

"My my. I think that first round made quite the impression. I hope you aren't too afraid to continue. Or maybe I'm only forcing you into a corner. I wonder how you'll fight back. Are you enough of a man to fight me with only your wits, or will you rely on petty tricks? I suppose the choice is yours."

Chalk seemed despondent at first, but when he finally looked up, Check was very surprised to see him grinning ear to ear.


	7. Gambler Vs Con

Chalk had been caught into a very unusual situation. Suddenly thrown into an absurd game with a complete stranger. He had already lost the first round, but the situation wasn't unsalvageable. The question was, how would he turn things around?

Chalk noticed a giant screen over the arena that displayed his name along with Check's. Beneath Chalk's name was the number 990000 and below Check's was 1010000.

"Is that supposed to be our bank?"

Check had a pitying smirk.

"Finally noticed the scoreboard. I figured it'd be unfair to use my real assets, as I undoubtedly have considerably more funds than you, so I just matched the amount you had on your person."

"What?! There was more than that."

"There were exactly, 962200 coins in your wallet. I rounded up."

"Tch. Worth a try."

The fax machine next to Chalk had already printed out 8 profiles for him to view. It was his turn to pick a team this time, but he wasn't too sure what to make of it.

He pawed through them with irritation before slapping them down on the table.

"What is this garbage?! This information is useless! How is their favorite food supposed to help me pick a winner?"

Check sighed.

"You can't discern even that much by yourself? I suppose I'll fill you in. Their favorite foods give you an insight into their diet. A healthier player is a stronger player."

"Then what about favorite color?"

"It helps you see what team they'll likely choose. You need to combine the information to gain a clear picture of the flow of the game. But maybe that's simply beyond your capabilities. You aren't much of an opponent without your tricks, it seems."

"I've made my choice."

Check was surprised.

"So soon."

"Yep, let's do this."

The teams were led out into the arena. This time the 8 players were divided evenly into Team Orange Juice and Team Apple Juice.

Chalk addressed Check directly.

"I chose team Orange Juice."

"I see. Interesting choice. Seeing the players now, it's likely the very same team I would have chosen. May I ask how you made your decision?"

"I guessed."

"… How unpleasant. But you know, choice isn't all that matters in a gamble. There's also luck, and yours is no match for my own."

"Whatever. Just choose your bet."

"200000 coins."

"200000?! Even though I picked the team you would have?"

"Do I seem daring to you? Somehow I just don't feel like I'll lose here."

The battle commenced and the two about even until the last 20 seconds. Team Orange Juice made a slipup when two members failed to jump across a gap and fell into the water. Team Apple Juice swiftly took advantage of this error and took a large portion of Team Orange Juice's territory, securing their victory. Check gained 200000 of Chalk's coins, instantly taking a huge lead.

Chalk scratch at his head furiously.

"Argh. Why'd they have to screw up right at the end like that?"

Check kept the same relaxed smirk as usual.

"Heheh. You seem frustrated. Did you not consider the possibility of losing?"

"It's more like you seemed too sure you would win."

"Are you accusing me of something? I promise I had no idea how your team would lose, I merely understood that luck would favor me."

"Tch. Seriously? If that's true, I don't see how you can feel so proud of yourself. With all your talk of studying psychology and numbers, you only won because of dumb luck."

For the first time, Check's expression changed. It became a slight scowl.

"Hmph. Just the foul rantings of a loser. This round was mine and that's all that matters."

Chalk tried to hide his amusement at breaking Check's composure.

"Whatever you say."

"Urrrgh. I've had enough of you. You're nowhere near my level. No need to delay the inevitable. I'll end you quickly."

The next round was beginning. Check's fax machine activated, but after the second page, the machine let out a loud grinding sound and popped. No additional profiles came out, only a distorted mass of ink and paper.

Check was aghast.

"Note, what happened?!"

"I have no idea. I need to take a look."

Check's attention was drawn to Chalk. Chalk had a rotten sneer that he just couldn't contain.

Check exclaimed.

"You! You did this, didn't you?"

Note was fanning away smoke as he attempted to pry open the machine.

"Him? But how is that possible? He's more than 50 yards away and hasn't left his seat. He couldn't have sabotaged the fax. Maybe it was just a spot of bad luck."

"Hmph. Do you honestly believe that, Note? As if misfortune could ever befall me. No, I'm certain he's the culprit. His face isn't even trying to hide it any longer."

Note suddenly let out a shocked gasp.

"This… This…"

Check looked over.

"What did you find, Note?"

"It… It's… a slinky."

"A slinky. How in the world did that get in there?"

"I… I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"What do you mean by that, Note? I'm sure that isn't true."

Check faced Chalk on the monitor.

"Just what game are you playing, you scum?"

Earlier when Chalk was abducted, Note had placed a slinky in his hands. Of course, Chalk had no intention of playing with the silly thing, but held onto it, just in case it could aid in his escape. Chalk had noticed the fax machine by Check's desk before the game. At that point he had no clue to its significance, but he still jammed the slinky into the machinery simply as a means to spite Check. Once the game had begun, Chalk knew it was merely a matter of time before it broke down.

But he had no reason to tell Check that.

Chalk shrugged his shoulders with an insulting smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Check was on the verge of losing control, but instead took a deep breath.

"It hardly matters. Cheat or no, a real gambler takes on all challengers and this stunt has hardly secured your victory. I'm just a bit disappointed that you're too cowardly to face me with wits alone."

Chalk leaned back in his seat and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Now, I'm not admitting to cheating or anything, but since my money's on the line here, I have every intention to win. I'll fight back against your luck with everything I have. Wits and anything else I can drag up. Now what's so disappointing about that?"

Check picked up the only two profiles that came out, and quickly tore them to shreds.

"Then let's get serious."

Check selected a team.

Chalk mocked.

"Looks like it's just a guessing game for you now?

Check glared at Chalk coolly.

"That's more than enough to beat you."

Chalk still needed to pick a bet. Although Check had no logical way to pick a winner, outside of the topic itself, there was still roughly a 50% chance that Check would randomly select the winner, so he couldn't start making large bets just yet. After the earlier round, Chalk was down to 790000 coins.

He decided to play it just a little bit risky.

"I'll bet 110000."

The war was fought between Team Outer Space and Team Deep Sea with Team Outer Space representing Check. Team Outer Space won definitively.

Chalk muttered under his breath.

"That's regrettable…"

Elsewhere, Crayon and Graffiti were wandering aimlessly around the city.

"Is that her?"

"No."

"Is that her?"

"No."

"Hmm. Is that her?"

Crayon looked hard at the woman.

"Mmm. Kinda close."

"Close enough?"

"No."

"Locating Icing is more difficult than I had originally assumed. You aren't proving very useful."

"I'm sorry."

"We have no choice. We must change strategies."

"Ok. What's the plan?"

"I don't have one."

"…"

"You come up with one."

"Me? I don't know if I can."

"Then what good are you?!"

"Emm. I'm sorry. Maybe… Maybe we could try asking someone."

"Ask an informant to locate an informant? What would be the point?"

"Oou. Sorry."

"It's too bad we can't simply call Icing."

"… Wait! Why can't we just do that? Do you know her number?"

"Well. I do know it, but unfortunately I no longer possess a phone. I THOUGHT I had informed you of this before."

"But I have a phone."

"… A stroke of brilliance! Hand it over this instant!"

Graffiti took hold of Crayon's phone like it was dirty object, and only held it with two fingers. He dialed Icing's number and put it on speaker so he wouldn't have to hold it to his head.

Icing picked up the call.

"Hey Blondie. How'd you get this number?"

Graffiti replied.

"Who is this Blondie? I must speak to Icing."

"Graffiti? This IS Icing, doofus."

Crayon took the phone from Graffiti.

"Hi Icing. This is Crayon."

"Yeah, I know. I recognized the number."

"How did you know my number?"

"I know everything, duh."

"Oh, alright. But this is really important! I need your help!"

"You can't just ask Chalk? I'm really busy."

Crayon heard a voice in the background.

"Who ya talking to, baby?"

Icing answered him a cutesy voice.

"Just a girlfriend. Can you go in that store and buy me that cute bag?"

"Woah. It's pretty expensive."

"Pleeease."

"Sure, babe. Anything for you?"

"Thanks, honey."

Crayon felt embarrassed, thinking she may have interrupted something private.

"I'm so sorry, Icing. Was that your boyfriend?"

"Nah, I don't even remember his name. Don't think he's noticed yet. Anyway, we got a minute, so what's the emergency?"

"Chalk got kidnapped!"

"Oww. Don't yell. And what do you mean kidnapped? Isn't he just working on his latest scheme? I saw him a few minutes ago."

"Saw him?"

"Well, not SAW HIM saw him. He was in this live broadcast someone linked me on my phone. He was all in shadows and stuff, but the way he talked and those needle-y ears, I could tell it was him. Pretty obvious."

"Oouu. My head hurts. I don't know what's going on. Where is he?"

"Uh… well, the broadcast said it was being filmed at the Flower Horn Casino."

"That's great. Can you please show us the way there?"

"That's a little tough at the moment. Kinda busy, and stuff."

The clueless man called out to Icing.

"I got the bag. Might be a little tight for me this month, but nothin's too good for you, babe. Almost done with your call?"

Icing rolled her eyes.

"Thanks cutey. Few more minutes."

Icing tried to keep her voice down as she returned to the call.

"Look, Chalk knows how to take care of himself. Just leave him be. He'll be back by tomorrow like nothing even happened."

"But what if he isn't?!"

"Well I just have some things that I can't drop at a moment's notice, so you'll have to figure out something yourself."

"But what if Chalk-"

Graffiti took the phone from Crayon and hung up.

"She said the Flower Horn Casino, didn't she? Let's not waste any more time."

Crayon's eyes sparkled.

"You know the way?"

"I was commissioned to build the statue above their entryway. Of course, I was rejected after suggesting the statue should be made of gold and ice. Those philistines know nothing of fleeting beauty. Didn't stop them from pilfering my designs. But I suppose this is no time for a personal gripe. Chalk awaits us."

"Let's go!"

Chalk had played another round of the Splatfest Game. He did his best to try and pick the right team, but most of the players didn't go to the side he figured they would. Check fearlessly bet a massive amount and Chalk lost another 300000 coins. He'd been whittled down to a mere 380000. At 1620000 coins, Check's bank was more than 4 times larger than Chalk's. Chalk knew he couldn't allow things to continue like this any longer. To beat Check, he needed to be twice as daring.

Check's fax machine buzzed and whirred, but nothing came out as expected.

Check yawned condescendingly.

"It looks like your plan of forcing me to rely on chance has greatly backfired. I already told you that my luck can't be beat. Such pitiful resistance. Now which team shall I choose? I suppose it hardly matters at this stage. How dull."

Chalk clenched his teeth.

"Oh, am I boring you? Some of us have to actually work for what we have. We can't all afford to sit back and let our luck babysit us through life."

"Babysit?! How dare you? I've spent years studying to improve my technique!"

"And yet, now you're just sitting around, and the results haven't changed a bit."

"Enough! Begin the next round."

The teams came out with equal numbers representing both Team Tails and Team Whiskers.

Check had a scornful glare.

"I've chosen Team Whiskers. Now place your bet."

But Chalk seemed like he was hardly paying attention. Instead he seemed preoccupied playing with the profile sheets from the previous round.

He casually placed a bet without looking up from his work.

"Oh sure."

Check seemed irritated by his behavior.

"Given up already? So this was all the resolve you had. I'm not surprised."

Chalk ignored every word and just folded together a sharp looking paper airplane. He inspected it proudly for a moment, before throwing it down onto the field. It gently floated down towards Team Whisker.

Check screamed at Chalk.

"Hey! What are you doing? You can't just throw things onto the field."

Chalk yawned.

"What? If you're bored, why can't I be too?"

"Why you?"

The plane landed at the feet of an inkling boy. He looked down at the sheet of paper and noticed it had some writing on it. One side was some kind of detailed document that he didn't bother with, but the other had a handwritten note. The boy read it and looked up at Chalk. Chalk waved at him and the boy smiled and waved back. He folded the paper up and put it his pocket and the match began.

Check was immediately suspicious of this.

"What was on that plane?"

Chalk shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing important."

Check eyed Chalk distrustfully, but ultimately let the incident go.

Once the match started, the boy that received Chalk's note performed extremely poorly. He was missing all of his shots and couldn't stop tripping over his own feet. And yet, he frequently stopped to look up at Chalk and smile. Not only did he not contribute, he was just a huge hindrance to his own team.

Check angrily puzzled over the matter silently.

"The contestant was chosen randomly, and Chalk didn't have his profile, so they should be complete strangers. The boy has no logical reason to help Chalk, especially if it keeps him from his own rewards. What was written on that piece of paper? Some kind of deal or bribe? If that's the case, Chalk is digging his own grave. Openly fixing the match. There are cameras filming from every angle and the note is still intact. The evidence is rock solid. He'll be disqualified immediately. Does that fool honestly think I won't call for an investigation?"

The match ended with Team Whiskers' loss.

The boy that received Chalk's note had an embarrassed smile on his face and waved at Chalk some more before turning to leave.

Check called for security to apprehend the boy immediately and search his pockets. The folded up paper was brought to Check to examine personally.

Check opened it up and read it aloud with a bewildered expression.

"…You're… cute… What's the meaning of this?!"

Chalk couldn't stop himself from laughing his head off.

When the boy opened and read the paper airplane, he looked towards Chalk in his special royal box seat. But with Chalk being in kept in the darkness, the boy couldn't tell whether Chalk was a man or woman. All he could see was a friendly silhouette waving at him after sending the message "You're cute." Naturally his imagination took over and he pictured a fancy, beautiful, rich lady having a crush on him. He wasn't intentionally throwing the match at all, he was just nervous and extremely distracted.

Check was irked after piecing it all together.

"You knew this would happen. You interfered with the match."

Chalk put a finger to his lip innocently.

"Did I? All I did was compliment a member of the opposing team. Just some friendly cheering. There's no rule against that is there?"

Check looked towards the score board to see that Chalk's bank had doubled in value to 760000. "He bet everything in that last round."

Initially Check was shocked, but started to laugh.

"Heheh. I'm so glad. You're starting to look like a serious opponent. This is what I wanted all along. Someone to challenge me and force me to grow. Thank you. Beating you will be all the more satisfying because you're so rotten. Note, how are the repairs coming?"

The old man shut the device with a hard slam.

"They've just been completed."

"Excellent. I would hate for my victory to feel so impersonal."

Crayon and Graffiti had found their way into the Flower Horn Casino.

"Is this really the place? It's so… big and shiny."

"Of course. I could never forget such a tacky place."

Crayon pointed to a large arena in the middle of the casino.

"Look up there!"

Crayon squinted her eyes.

"Up on the left! That's Chalk!"

"Indeed! I'd recognize that silhouette anywhere."

"Wait. Who's that person he's talking to? That's not who took him before."

"It seems they're arguing about something."

Check's voice was heard through speakers all around the building.

"You're a manipulative, foul person. But I admit that that is a strength of its own kind. I admire it. I've faced many opponents in my career, and they've all said the same thing. That my luck was so powerful that it was like cheating. So, who am I to judge your ways? In a way, this match has only now become fair."

Chalk's attention was elsewhere, his eyes downcast and almost uncaring, as the next profiles printed out.

He returned his attention to Check.

"Could I ask you something?"

"What would that be?"

"Nothing important. Just something I had on my mind."

"Go on. I'm a bit interested."

"Hmm. Did you know that sherbet is always a surprise?"

"… What could that possibly mean?"

"Nothing really. It's just that sometimes the thing you've been waiting for is given to someone else."

"What is this driveling nonsense? Have you gone insane or are you just trying to break my focus?"

"Hmm. Never mind. Just preparing for my just desserts."

"I'd say that's appropriate, but it's rather hard to believe."

"If you say so."

Graffiti nodded his head with understanding.

"I never knew Chalk has such a poetic side to him."

Crayon looked lost in thought.

"Sherbet… I don't think its poetry."

"You're simply not artistic minded like Chalk and I."

"No. I think it's a message… to me."

"Mmm. I don't see how."

"Oh! I get it! Come on, Graffiti! We gotta go. There's no time!"

Chalk picked his team for the next round.

Check questioned.

"Not even going to look at the profiles."

"Why bother? I don't understand them anyway."

Check eyed Chalk inquiringly before relaxing.

"Very well. I believe I understand."

The teams were led out. Team Muffin only had 3 people while Team Cupcake had 5.

Chalk was still being aloof and silent, so Check spoke.

"I see you've chosen Team Muffin. That leaves me with Team Cupcake. It seems I have the numerical advantage. Interesting. I've locked in my bet. Let's proceed."

The match began and a massive incident occurred after Team Cupcake had barely exited the spawn. Their weapons were exploding in huge splashes of ink, rendering them useless.

Note's eyes nearly burst out of his head.

"My word! What is this?!"

The match had already begun but Team Cupcake had no means to ink turf. They were easily swept away as Team Muffin dominated the field without a fight.

Crayon was celebrating down below. She still didn't fully understand what was happening, but Chalk won something because of her and she figured that was good. No one in the audience besides Crayon understood Chalk's message, but to her it was fairly clear. She knew that "the thing you've been waiting for" was Graffiti's delivery, which he still had with him. And when Chalk mentioned "given to someone else" she figured she needed to give it away. But to who? She couldn't figure that out at first, until two neon signs suddenly lit up before her eyes. One was a muffin and the other was a cupcake. Chalk said something about dessert, and so Crayon felt it was obvious that he meant cupcakes, because a muffin was only for breakfast, or at least, she thought so. Once she figured this out, Crayon took Graffiti's package to the cupcake room and opened it up. Finding an assortment of flashy knockoff weapons, she emptied the box over a table of legitimate weapons, and quickly left. Chalk had hoped that only a few players would take the faulty weapons into battle, but every member of Team Cupcake was so struck by the attractive designs that they all chose to take one. Also Crayon bought a sherbet ice cream, but wasn't sure what it was for, and so she ate it.

Note stared daggers at Chalk.

"This…you. But how?! He's barely moved a muscle. What has this cheat done?! To cause such destruction, it's impossible!"

Check stopped Note's ranting.

"That's enough. I'm sure everything Chalk has done was perfectly within the rules."

"But you can't seriously mean to-"

"There is no issue, Note."

"… I understand. I will not question you further."

"Thank you. I have lost this round."

Check placed a bet of 240000 coins, bringing Chalk back up to an even 1000000. A rather unbelievable coincidence. Chalk wasn't happy about this win in the slightest. It was obvious to him that Check knew that Chalk would win that round. Chalk wasn't the type of man to be discontent over an easy win, but it was clear to him that Check had predicted his actions. It made Chalk uneasy, although he had no clue what Check was up to.

Check saw through Chalk's code and realized he must have a partner he was communicating with. Check knew that Chalk was going to fix the match in his favor, but chose not to do anything. Chalk had a look in his eye that told Check that he was ready to end the match. He hid it well, but Check could see it. Check wasn't certain how or why. Maybe Chalk was just running out of tricks, but in any case he was ready to play his final move. Check merely wanted to speed things along.

Check gazed a Chalk with powerful determination.

"I can see it, you know. Your challenger's spirit. You're going to bet everything next round, correct?"

Chalk stared back with a straight face.

"That's right."

"A spectacular finale. I approve."

Check happily flipped the last profiles.

"Did you need extra time to pull off your final "strategy"?"

Chalk folded his hands.

"No. This is fine."

"Are you sure? You don't have a secret message you need to communicate. I'll allow it."

"No need. Besides a trick like that wouldn't work if you're expecting it. But if you're willing to indulge me, I'd like to propose something to make the last round more interesting. But only after you've selected a team, but before you've entered it into the console."

"Finally showing your hand? Fine, I grant you your request."

Check shuffled through the papers, carefully estimating strengths and habits, before addressing Chalk.

"Alright. I've made my choice. Between Team Heroes and Team Villains, I will choose Team Villains. Now let's hear your proposal."

Chalk calmly answered.

"I was thinking that you and I should switch teams."

"…Excuse me? Is that really your best idea?"

"I thought the idea might interest you."

"And why is that?"

"Because I've given up. I don't think I can really beat you."

"What are you saying?"

"You told me that you have two great gifts. Your skill in gambling and your luck. I say that your skill is just a sham. Your only talent is luck. But that luck is so great that there's no way for me to win."

"Preposterous. Practice and study have taken me just as far as my fortune."

"Care to put it to the test?"

"Hmph. How would you test it then?"

"I think it's safe to assume you used all of your "skills" to pick the best possible team."

"Of course."

"Then you should trade teams with me. That way we can directly pit your abilities against your luck. I'm positive that regardless of any amount of effort you poured into your choice, your luck is the only thing that will matter in the end. I only aim to prove that."

"That… That's absurd. You seem to think that I've overlooked the fact that if my skills win out, I'll be the loser of our game."

"Are you afraid?"

"Heh. Very interesting. You're pushing me into a situation where I must sacrifice either victory or my pride. But you've forgotten something. I can easily keep my winning selection and combine it with my luck and crush you with my full force, like any true gambler would."

"I can't stop you from doing that, but I'll still have learned something. You're too scared to take a chance and face the truth. That's proof enough that you were never the real deal to begin with."

"Enough. You don't need to continue with your taunting. I never intended to back down from your challenge. I only wanted to hear your reasoning. Like true gamblers, let's end our game in style!"

The last match was fought. Both teams had equal members, and both gamblers were betting everything. It was chaotic from start to finish, but when the game was finally called. The audience erupted in jeers and angry screaming. The final winner of the match was Chalk, taking home a total of 2000000 coins.

The audience scorned him for his devious tricks, but luckily for Chalk, they didn't know his identity, and he was able to quietly slip through the crowds along with Crayon. But before they could make their escape, Chalk was confronted by Check fact to face.

Check held out a hand and waited for Chalk to shake it.

"This is how all honorable matches should end. You outwitted me."

Chalk smirked and shook Check's hand.

"Nope. I only conned you."

"You were a strong opponent. I underestimated you. But even as the loser, I must selfishly ask something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Tell me the truth. Do you think it's possible that my luck made you the victor to protect my ego, because my pride meant more to me than winning this match?"

Chalk patted her on the shoulder as he passed by.

"Tch. Don't be stupid. I don't believe in luck."

Check stood in the middle of the casino, utterly bewildered by his response.

Soon Note came by to escort his employer home.

"Ready to go, Madam?"

Check had a charmed smile on her face.

"Note, what do you boys like?"

"Well if nothing's changed from my day that would be flowers, immaculately arranged silverware, and pinking shears."

Check watched Chalk as he left, but as another girl appeared beside him and held his hand, suddenly Check was filled with an emotion she hadn't felt before. But it felt very, very similar… to rage.


	8. End of the Month

The sun shined brightly through the window and over Crayon's eyes. She winced slightly before realizing it was day. She burst out of bed and got dressed with one thing on her mind. Crayon was off to see Chalk. He was never very forthcoming with his next location, and so actually finding him always took up much of her mornings. But she was getting better at it.

She remembered Chalk mentioned something about "having to go to the stink hole", so she figured that he must have meant Chubby's. He always hated going there. She'd try looking there first. But as she stepped out of her house, she came across something curious. Piling into her yard was an extensive collection of Off the Hook, primarily Marina, memorabilia spilling in from her neighbor's home.

She heard yelling from behind the growing pile and feeling curious, crept in close to eaves drop.

Crayon's neighbor was standing on his lawn, dodging collectables as his wife hurled them onto the street.

His wife hollered at him.

"I can't take having this trash in my house anymore!"

"Honey, please. I have a completely different kind of love for her. It's nothing like what WE have."

"Oh! I feel _soooo_ much better."

"Really?"

"No!"

And the further infuriated woman returned to lobbing CD's, framed posters, and Marina-styled plush toys from the doorway.

As the hail of objects overwhelmed him, the man took cover behind his prized pile where he uncovered a very red and wide-eyed Crayon.

"Oh! Well hello there, Crayon. What brings you here?"

Crayon twiddled her fingers as objects continued to fling overhead.

"H-Hello, Mr. Board. I-I was just…um…"

"Ah! You must be interested in my collection."

"Uhhhh…"

"Don't be shy. Everyone should have a little Marina in their life."

"I-It's a very nice collection, sir."

"Yes, well as you can see, I'll be needing to find a new home for my little treasures very soon. I suppose I'll have to take it all down to the flea market this afternoon. Hmm. You wouldn't be interested in buying a few things right now, would you? It'd help lighten the load."

"Oh. Thank you so much for the offer, but I don't have very much money."

"That's not a problem. I'm willing to give them up for cheap. The wife might do something… drastic if I don't get rid of them by the end of today. Take this autographed album and photobook set for example. I'll part with it for 1000 coins."

"1000 coins?! It's gotta be worth 10 times as much as that."

"20 times, actually. So what do ya say?"

"Wow! What do I say?! I… think I only have 5 coins in my purse."

"Ah. That's a bit lower than I'm willing to bargain with. Are you sure you don't have any more?"

"I don't. But I think I might know someone who does!"

Crayon immediately headed to Chubby's in hopes of finding Chalk. The merchandise was being sold for a steal. She was certain that Chalk of all people could make a huge profit off of these deals. He could probably buy the whole lot if he acted fast. Nevertheless, she located him easily enough. She found him standing by the men's restroom, looking rather angry.

Chalk was pounding at the door.

"Just send it already! You're holding both of us up, you big baby!"

In a normal restaurant, Chalk might be asked to leave for making such a big disturbance, but at Chubby's the employees didn't bother to deal with it. The customers had come to expect this sort of thing.

Crayon could hear a squealing come from behind the restroom door.

"Eeek! Stop screaming. You know my policy. Payment has to clear first."

Chalk grinded his teeth.

"It's coming. I've never not payed you. Do you really think this is the last time I'd ever ask you to hack something for me?!"

"What?! We've been through this before. I'm NOT a hacker!"

"I'm pretty sure I regularly pay you to hack things for me."

"You… you just don't understand terminology."

"I don't care!"

Crayon sheepishly approached the situation.

"What's going on, Chalk?"

Before Chalk had a chance to say anything, Prints spoke up instead.

"Is that Crayon?! Why don't you ever tell me when she's here?!"

Crayon quickly corrected him.

"No, I just got here. Chalk didn't do anything."

Prints let out a loud audible sigh of relief from behind the restroom door.

"Oh, that's so good to hear. So you didn't hear me… Anyway, like I was saying, I am NOT a hacker. I'm a more artful scammer than that."

"But you're still a criminal?"

"Well, yeah… But it's a smart person's game. I'm not just breaking and entering with code. I'm involved with things like phishing, multilevel marketing, cryptocurrency. That sort of thing. No big deal. I barely need to leave my house."

Chalk quipped.

"Or the toilet."

"Could you try being less bitter? Anyway, sounds pretty cool, right Crayon?"

Crayon smiled nervously.

"Uh… I don't know."

"But… but it's like the same thing Chalk does, and you think he's cool, right?"

"Yes."

"Then what about me?"

"… Well… sure."

"That was only barely a "yes"."

Prints began to sulk.

"This isn't fair! I'm a way nicer guy than him. What even is Crayon to you anyway?!"

Chalk was pretending not to care.

"Who, me?"

"Obviously!"

Chalk looked at Crayon and scratched his head.

"I dunno, man. A pet I forget to feed sometimes."

"Are you kidding? Did you hear that, Crayon? He doesn't respect you at all!"

Crayon was staring into space, evidently having lost interest in the conversation and momentarily forgetting why she was even here.

"I'm so hungry… Huh? What were you saying?"

Chalk made a smug expression that Prints could somehow feel past the walls.

"Looks like she's fine with it. So anyways, can I get email now? I really do got places to be."

Prints let out a frustrated grunt.

"Urrrrr. No! Just leave! I don't want to talk to you anymore!"

"Oh come on, you big baby. How am I supposed to do business like this?"

Prints started humming loudly to show Chalk that he wasn't listening.

Chalk raised his fist like he was going to punch a hole in the door, but he held back, exhaled and walked away.

"Let's go, Crayon. We're leaving."

Crayon couldn't believe that Chalk was just giving up, but all the same followed after.

"R-Right. Coming."

As they left the "restaurant" Crayon asked, "What are we gonna do now?"

Chalk still seemed a little peeved.

"Nothing. There's no time for anything else. It's just a loss today."

"No time? But it's so early."

"These things take more planning than you think. I can't just organize a new scheme at a moment's notice."

"Oh. I wish there was something I could do."

"Yeah…"

The two were quiet for a moment.

Crayon walked closely behind Chalk, feeling sad for him.

But an idea struck her, and she screamed in his ear at this sudden revelation.

"Wait a second!"

"Aah! What?"

Crayon grabbed his hand and bounced around in excitement.

"I know how you can make money today."

Chalk sighed with low expectations.

"Okay, what's your idea?"

Crayon could barely contain herself.

"There's a guy I know, my neighbor Mr. Board, and he has a whole bunch of rare and autographed Marina merchandise."

"Yeah?"

"And he's selling it all at a steal. We can go over there right now and buy as much as we can carry! Oooo, isn't that great?!"

Crayon fully expected him to be thrilled, but strangely Chalk seemed unhappy.

Chalk didn't accept her proposal.

"Nnn. I think I'll pass."

Crayon's expression melted into confusion and disappointment.

"But why? It's not that far away, and I'm sure we can trust him. It all looked authentic to me, but you can see for yourself."

"I just don't think it'll work out."

"W-What are you saying? Do you just not want to do it because it's legal? That's crazy."

"That's not it."

"Then what? I-Is it because… it was my idea?"

"Can we just drop it?"

"Then it IS me?"

"What?"

"Am I really that much of an idiot to you?!"

"That has nothing to do with anything!"

"Then why?!"

"I'm broke!"

Chalk was red, but clearly regret his words.

Crayon paused and averted her eyes. She had to think. It made no sense. How could it even be possible? But when she looked at Chalk's eyes, she believed him.

"H-How did this happen?"

Chalk tried to escape.

"Forget it. I have to go now."

Crayon gripped him by his sleeve.

"No. I'm too scared to let it go."

"It's fine. It's just private. Don't worry."

Crayon pulled Chalk in and hugged him tightly.

"I won't make you if you think it's none of my business, but I want to know. Would you tell me? Please."

Chalk pushed her away at arm's length but held onto her shoulders.

His face twisted as he mulled over his words.

"Mmm. There's no other way to say it. I spent it all."

"Are you embarrassed because it was something stupid?"

"No, it wasn't stupid! It was something important to me."

"What?"

Crayon looked at him expectantly, yet Chalk hesitated to speak. But he'd already come this far. He figured he may as well just come out and say it.

"Could you… Could you do me a favor?"

Crayon answered almost too eagerly.

"Anything!"

"Would you mind meeting my mom today?"

Crayon made a stiff, confused smile.

"Hmm?"

Chalk took Crayon to the train station, and bought a ticket for the both of them. Chalk certainly didn't have enough money to make large purchases, but he kept enough for small necessities. An extra ticket was only a few hundred coins. Their destination was Angelfish Hills, the nicer end of Inkopolis where mostly very wealthy families lived.

The train was nearly empty. Chalk sat down without saying anything, lost in his own thoughts.

Crayon sat next to him and interrupted the silence.

"So, are we going to your house?"

"No."

"Oh… Then where?"

"A hospital."

"Does your mom work there?"

Chalk glanced at her wordlessly, and Crayon understood.

Crayon didn't say anything else in fear of saying something thoughtless.

Eventually Chalk finished thinking and decided to explain things to Crayon.

"I'm not sure if you've figured it out yet, but my mom doesn't exactly know what I do during the day, and I really don't need her to find out."

"Alright, I won't say anything. But what if she asks?"

"Just say I never told you. She'll believe that."

"Ok."

"As I'm sure you guessed, she's sick, and she really doesn't need any extra stress, or her condition might get worse."

"What's wrong with her?"

"… She's dying."

"I'm sorry, I never should've asked that-"

"It's fine. I was gonna tell you anyway."

"Well, what should I say when I meet her?"

"Whatever you want. Just try not to talk about me."

"Right. Gotcha."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I'm sorry, but could you go over all of that again?"

"Really?!"

"I just want to make sure I don't forget anything."

The rest of the ride was spent going over the details many many times and answering additional questions. Chalk took extra care to ensure that Crayon understood exactly what she wasn't allowed to mention. Chalk and Crayon got off at their stop and walked the rest of the way to the hospital. It took just enough time for Crayon to forget the vast majority of what they talked about. Roughly 20 minutes.

Just as they approached the building, Crayon stopped Chalk.

"Wait, one last question."

"I'll ignore that this is the 5th time you've said that. What is it?"

"It's not like I don't want to be here, but why did you want me to come along?"

"Isn't it a little late to ask that?"

Crayon laughed embarrassedly.

"Better late than never."

"I just think…"

Chalk sighed and scratched his head.  
"My mom might feel better if I brought a friend. Like maybe she won't worry about me so much."

Crayon's eyes sparkled, gaining sudden enthusiasm about this meeting.

She grabbed Chalk's arm and dragged him inside.

"Well let's go already! Hurry! Hurry!"

"Wait! You don't even know where her room is."

Finally leading Crayon to the right door, Chalk asked.

"Any last questions?"

Crayon answered brimming with confidence.

"Nope. I'm good!"

Chalk seemed doubtful.

"I really hope you're right."

And he opened the door.

"Hey mom. I'm here."

Crayon entered the room behind Chalk to see a very pale and thin, but beautiful woman lying in a white bed.

The woman turned off the TV.

"Hey Chalk. You're early. Who's that?"

Crayon understood that she meant her and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Crayon. It's very nice to meet you Mrs…"

Crayon awkwardly froze in complete mortification as she immediately realized that she didn't know Chalk's last name.

Almost on the verge of tears, Crayon was rescued by Chalk.

"Ahem. It's Wallers."

Crayon started speaking very loudly, quickly, and nervously.

"Mrs. Wallers! It's so good to meet you! I'm Crayon!"

Chalk's mother giggled at Crayon's antics.

"It's okay. Just call me Paint. I hate being called "Missus"."

Crayon calmed down slightly.

"Thank you. That actually makes me feel a little better."

"Glad to help. So you must be one of Chalk's friends he's told me about."

"Chalk has other friends?"

Chalk very clearly recalled telling her that he's supposed to have several close friends. He just needed to cover for her again.

"She's kidding."

Crayon look puzzled.

"I am? Oh, right! I guess there's also Icing, but Chalk always says they're not really friends."

Paint was curious.

"Why's that? Who is she?"

"She's an older girl that Chalk hangs out with sometimes. She dates people for money, I think."

Chalk covered his face to hide his horrified incredulity.

Paint was surprised to say the least.

"Oh my… He must know some interesting people."

"He sure does. But they're not his friends, just me."

Paint tried to smile, half wanting to believe that Crayon was joking.

"Well, at least you seem nice. I'm sorry my son always has to be such a social abomination."

"It's totally okay. I'm used to it."

Chalk scowled at Crayon.

"Gee. Thanks for defending me."

Paint rebuked Chalk.

"Don't get mad at her. She's so pleasant and perky. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised she's your type."

"S-Shut up, mom."

Paint seemed happy. She always liked to see Chalk get a little rattled. But laughing too hard gave her a slight cough. She poured herself some water and opened up the ice pale by her bed but all the ice was melted.

Paint took a sip of warm water and winced.

"Chalk, could you go into the hall and refill the ice for me."

Chalk took the pale.

"Yeah, I'll be right back."

Before leaving, he gave Crayon a meaningful look, sending her a message reminding her not to say too much while he's gone. A message she did not receive.

Once they were alone, Paint invited Crayon to move closer.

"So, Chalk brought you here for a reason, right?"

Crayon was taken aback.

"Uh… well. That's…"

"He probably brought you so I'd think he had a friend and wouldn't worry so much. Am I right?"

"He…well..."

"I guess that answers my question. I'm a little interested though. Are you really his friend?"

"Of course I am!"

"Yeah. I suppose he wouldn't have brought you, let alone left us by ourselves, if he didn't at least trust you. So what's he really been up to?"

"…"

"I guess you're not supposed to tell me, huh?"

"Mmm."

"Don't worry. I won't probe anymore."

Crayon felt somewhat ashamed, probably a bit for not being honest and a bit for being found out so easily.

"Thank you."

Paint pushed off of her pillow to prop herself up.

"So, changing the topic, what do you think about Chalk?"

Crayon brightened up at this question.

"Well he's-"

She was interrupted by Chalk entering the room.

He placed the pale in his mother's lap instead of on the table.

"Here. Ice."

Paint smiled and placed a few cubes in her empty cup.

"Thank you, son."

It was strange, but after Chalk returned, Paint didn't ask Crayon anymore questions. She acted like their conversation had never happened. It looked like the both of them were keeping secrets from each other.

The next few hours passed very casually. Paint talked about how she'd been spending her time, and Chalk fed her a story about a part-time job. Crayon wondered if Paint believed any of it.

Soon it was getting dark and Chalk decided it was time to leave.

Chalk and Crayon both said bye, but before they left, Paint called out to Chalk and motioned to him for a hug, and he obliged.

Paint pulled him in and whispered in his ear.

"Your friend's very pretty."

He patted her back.

"I know, mom."

As they left the building, Crayon had a lot on her mind. She never would have suspected that Paint had already seen through Chalk's lies. She thought maybe she ought to tell Chalk.

Chalk could see from just a quick look at Crayon that something was wrong.

"What's up?"

"Hmm? Nothing. I was just thinking."

"How unlike you. What about?"

"Mmm. Do you think we should just tell your mom what you've been doing?"

"Not a chance. She wouldn't be able to handle it. Not like she is now."

"Do you really think so?"

"It's a bit complicated, but if she found out what I was really doing, it would destroy her. Trust me."

Crayon cast her gaze downwards.

"If you say so."

"Sorry I made you lie to her. I won't ask you to do it again."

"No, it's fine. But… you only do your little schemes to make money for her hospital bills, right?"

"I guess that's pretty obvious. I need to pay for her room and care, and I'm saving up for a risky operation that just might save her life."

"T-That's amazing."

"But that's only part of the reason. It that was all there was, I'd have already reached the goal by now."

"Then what else is there?"

"It's a really long story, and I'm tired. Some other time."

Crayon nodded understandably.

"That's fine, but if there's something hurting you, I hope you'll tell me."

"Right. I'm just feeling a little too exhausted today, but I promise I'll tell you some other time."

Crayon smiled.

"Ok. I know you will."

Crayon peeked down another hall as they walked.

Something caught her eye and she ran off in that direction.

Chalk saw her and yelled.

"Hey! That's not the right way! Where are you going?!"

"I know, I know! Just a second!"

She crouched down next to a small vending machine and turned the crank.

She ran back to Chalk and placed something in his hand.

"Here. Candy."

"Thanks, but you can eat it."

"I bought it for you. It only cost 5 coins."

"I'm so flattered…"

"Eat it. It'll make you feel better.

"Fine."

Chalk popped it into his mouth and chewed it loudly.

Crayon returned to walking beside him.

"How's it taste?"

"Bad."

"But you still feel better, right?"

"Eh, a little."

"So, I've been thinking. I bet you don't know my last name either, huh?"

"It's Papier."

"What?! How'd you know? I don't remember saying it before."

"I've poked around in your wallet."

"When was this?"

"Last week, the week before that, earlier today on the train. A bunch of times, really."

"Well, it's nice that you want to learn more about me."

"I was just bored."

"But we should just share our secrets openly."

"As if there's anything about you I don't already know."

Crayon smiled somewhat wryly.

"Heh. Right."


End file.
